Part 1 (dealing)
- Exhortation and Kohima
John Tavener (1944-2013)- I. The Exhortation
"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning. We will remember them." - Laurence Binyon from For the Fallen
- Four2
John Cage (1912-1992)
- How to Go On
Dale Trumbore (b. 1987)- I. How
- II. However Difficult
"How can we go on, knowing the end of the story?" - Barbara Crooker, excerpt from “Some Fine Day”
"However difficult you think it might be,
it is yours, this life,
even the failures
are yours,
even the garden, though it be unkempt,
is yours."
- Laura Foley, excerpt from “Autumn Musings”
Part 2 (dealing)
- Nunc dimittis
Gustav Holst
(1874-1934)
- How to Go On
Dale Trumbore
"We need to separate to see
the life we’ve made.
We need to leave our house
where someone waits for us, patiently,
warm beneath the sheets.
We need to don a sweater, a coat, mittens,
wrap a scarf around our neck,
stride down the road,
a cold winter morning,
and turn our head back, to see it – perched
on the top of the hill, our life
lit from inside."
- Laura Foley, from Syringa
- A Boy and a Girl
Eric Whitacre (b. 1970)
Part 3 (accepting)
- How to Go On
Dale Trumbore- IV. Relinquishment
"I am looking at pale blue ponds of melted ice
on a frozen river
and in them perfect clouds passing.
Wind sends ripples along the water
And trees cut sharp lines into the sky. Soon
it will be gone, all of it
and I will be sitting in darkness,
sitting by a dark window, glad
for having seen this earth,
her elegant grace,
how she turns away from the sun.
And I will be learning, again, how to give it all up by simply turning.
How to give it up to darkness, all you love.
All of it.
How to give it up again and again."
- Laura Foley, from Syringa
- Canticum Calamitatis Maritimae
Jaako Mäntyjärvi (b. 1963)
Part 4 (moving forward/peace)
- Soon I Will Be Done
Marques L.A. Garrett
- How to Go On
Dale Trumbore- VIII. When at Last
- VIII. When at Last
"When at last I join the democracy of dirt,
a tussock earthed over and grass healed,
I’ll gladly conspire in my own diminishment.
Let a pink peony bloom from my chest
and may it be visited by a charm of bees,
who will then carry the talcum of pollen
and nectar of clover to the grove where they hive.
Let the honey they make be broken
from its comb, and release from its golden hold,
onto some animal tongue, my soul."
- Amy Fleury, from Sympathetic Magic