Sunset: the shadow of the carillon
had done its covering of us.
The girl with red hair finally turned toward me
and the blanket and the grass and the white oaks
smelled like the furthest thing from memory I
could have asked for.

And the ringing I
did not hear next did not come from the building's bells,
but from the sound
of each ignited shell
that boxed my ears with its beginning. I
began to shake and I
saw the girl with red hair's eyes
and that she saw me
shake and the mouths of whole families
gone wide and rounded in amazement.

I do not believe in silence.
There is no such thing.
But I
believed in the woman in Ward C of McGuire veteran's
     hospital
who told me to dig
my feet into the ground as hard as I
could if I
ever doubted
the firmness of reality.

And I
had practiced digging down
and down into the earth
with my hands
with my elbows
with my body
with my eyes
gone wide, in fact I
have tried to become earth
many times, to be lower than earth, and I
have known many boys
who practiced it so much
that they stayed below the surface.

So I dig my heels into the green grass, wearing out
the blanket and the carillon's lawn and
I shake, turning
to the girl with red hair,
grasping her waist,
until lastly
we reach resonance.

Independence Day (2020)

carillon, 6-7'

Composed for Carol Jickling Lens, carilloneur, DU Williams Tower, Denver, CO.

A work for solo carillon by composer Nathan Hall. Premiered July 5, 2020 at Williams Tower, DU, by Carol Jickling Lens. The work follows the poem of the same name by writer, poet, and Iraq War soldier Kevin C. Powers. The piece uses some dramatic arm and leg presses as well as the full range of this extensive bell set, one of the biggest in the US. Poem used with permission.