Jane Siberry Foecke Letras:
In the beginning he was a baby just like any other
baby, my little son, Foecke. Who would have known,
in the beginning, looking at his tiny unprotected
frame, that one day he would grow into the large,
granitine form. The primordial eye-of-the-elephant
through which humanity would send their anger out,
through as many languages as there are languages,
through the primordial eye-of-the-elephant out
into the universe. A baby like any other baby. A
child like any other child. A boy like any other
boy. Until about grade three. And then things
began to change. My little Foecke. It began in the
schoolyard. Small outrages building up into larger
outrages in the childish systems. But these
children were too young to pull down the words
that they needed to send their inarticulateness
out into the greater schoolyard. Then, in one
collective moment, they noticed my son, Foecke.
And they nicknamed him Fuck. And so began the
story of Fuck. And with each intonation of his
nickname, my little son, Foecke, (Fuck) generated
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into a larger more generous being. His muscles
became more defined. His eye became stronger and
more constant. And his back grew wide like a
stairway to heaven. And with every Fuck! that
reached his labyrinthine ears his giantness
extended into lumbering and constancy and
tank-like purpose. And as their childish rage grew
into men's rage they gravitated towards my son,
Fuck. Clambering to be lifted up and to have their
anger harmlessly sent out into the universe
through his great primordial eye-of-the-elephant.
And Foecke, (Fuck), that slow-moving son of mine,
the gentle giant, obliged them all. He never said
no. He allowed their inarticulate rage to be
exhumed in his name, their impotence pressed
against the comfort of his broad and constant
back. And as the ever-expanding distortions of
wisdom and truth triggered even more rage
throughout the world, throughout as many languages
as there are languages, the Word spread like
wildfire. Fuck would accept everyone. None would
be turned away. All could send out their most
important message just by calling upon his name.
He would only grunt gently as he bent to take you
on. And people came from far and wide and they
were not necessarily healed but they were not
killed either. In the beginning there was Foecke.
Letras: Foecke Jane Siberry [final]