Herbalist's Shadow

Lyrics

[Intro]
You just hang there.
On a cold iron hook by the pantry door.
Stiff with memory.
Faded linen.

[Verse 1]
I trace the ghost of a pocket, worn thin by a trowel's handle.
Here, a deep purple stain from the elderberry harvest, summer of 1710.
And here, the good Sudbury soil, ground into the weave from a long-ago spring.
You remember her hands, don't you?
Pushing back the frost, testing the earth.
Planting the peppermint slips she brought across the water.
Whispering to the marigolds to keep the pests away.

[Chorus]
You are her shadow now.
The herbalist's shadow.
No headstone bears her name, no journal holds her ink.
But you hold the scent of her labor.
The map of her seasons.
The weight of the knowledge in her calloused hands.
You are the only testament left.

[Verse 2]
She would untie you at dusk.
And move into the still room.
The air thick with beeswax and drying leaves.
She'd line up the worn wooden seed boxes, each one a promise against the winter.
She knew the moon's pull on the water in the stem.
A secret passed from mother to daughter, never written down, just shown.
A handful of seeds for a neighbor's new garden.
A poultice for a fever.

[Chorus]
You are her shadow now.
The herbalist's shadow.
No headstone bears her name, no journal holds her ink.
But you hold the scent of her labor.
The map of her seasons.
The weight of the knowledge in her calloused hands.
You are the only testament left.

[Bridge]
Did she ever feel seen?
Standing in the late afternoon sun, shelling peas on the porch, August 1850.
Did she know the patch of wild mint by the river would be tended by her daughter's daughter?
Did she know her work was more than sustenance?
It was the quiet, steady rhythm that held this place together.
A low hum beneath the men's histories.

[Outro]
I reach out, but I don't touch you.
You've earned your rest.
On the cold iron hook.
Faded linen.
The herbalist's shadow.