Grace
I first heard Jeff Buckley’s Grace in 1996, on MTV’s 120 Minutes. Yes, I’m ancient enough to remember when MTV actually played music videos, and late-night discoveries like that felt like buried treasure. That performance haunted me so deeply that years later, in 2002, when I found a copy of the Grace CD at my library, I asked if I could buy it outright. They let me — and I carried it home like a relic, because none of my local record stores had it. The album survived cross-country moves, but these days I stream it on Spotify.
“Grace” has remained my favorite song for nearly three decades. To me, it’s always been about grappling with depression and suicidal ideation, about staring mortality in the face — not fearing death itself so much as the suffering that comes before it. The refrain, wait in the fire, is what burns brightest: a mantra of endurance, rebirth, and phoenix-like transformation. Because it means so much to me, I’ve long wanted to illustrate it, but I held back. The song has always felt almost sacred, and I was intimidated to put my own hand to something that carries so much weight.
Here in 2025, I’m in a better place than I was when I first heard it, though I still live with C-PTSD, treatment-resistant depression, and chronic pain and fatigue. Bad days are part of the landscape. But I have anchors now, and one of the strongest is the love of my partner, Andy. His steadiness, his devotion, are a kind of grace in their own right — the reminder that even when the fire feels endless, I don’t face it alone.
So I want to say this to anyone who finds themselves in the same fire: someone out there cares about you, more than you might ever realize, and they would miss you terribly if you were gone. You are not alone in this. Even if it feels unbearable now, the fire isn’t just destruction — it can be rebirth. Hold on. Wait in the fire.
“Grace” has remained my favorite song for nearly three decades. To me, it’s always been about grappling with depression and suicidal ideation, about staring mortality in the face — not fearing death itself so much as the suffering that comes before it. The refrain, wait in the fire, is what burns brightest: a mantra of endurance, rebirth, and phoenix-like transformation. Because it means so much to me, I’ve long wanted to illustrate it, but I held back. The song has always felt almost sacred, and I was intimidated to put my own hand to something that carries so much weight.
Here in 2025, I’m in a better place than I was when I first heard it, though I still live with C-PTSD, treatment-resistant depression, and chronic pain and fatigue. Bad days are part of the landscape. But I have anchors now, and one of the strongest is the love of my partner, Andy. His steadiness, his devotion, are a kind of grace in their own right — the reminder that even when the fire feels endless, I don’t face it alone.
So I want to say this to anyone who finds themselves in the same fire: someone out there cares about you, more than you might ever realize, and they would miss you terribly if you were gone. You are not alone in this. Even if it feels unbearable now, the fire isn’t just destruction — it can be rebirth. Hold on. Wait in the fire.
There's the moon asking to stay
Long enough for the clouds to fly me away
Oh, it's my time coming,
I'm not afraid
Afraid to die
My fading voice sings of love,
But she cries to the clicking of time.
Of time
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
The fire.
And she weeps on my arm
Walking to the bright lights in sorrow
Oh drink a bit of wine
We both might go tomorrow
Oh my love
And the rain is falling,
I believe my time has come
It reminds me of the pain
I might leave
Leave behind
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
The fire.
It reminds me of the pain
I might leave
Leave behind
And I feel them drown my name
So easy to know and forget with this kiss
I'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Long enough for the clouds to fly me away
Oh, it's my time coming,
I'm not afraid
Afraid to die
My fading voice sings of love,
But she cries to the clicking of time.
Of time
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
The fire.
And she weeps on my arm
Walking to the bright lights in sorrow
Oh drink a bit of wine
We both might go tomorrow
Oh my love
And the rain is falling,
I believe my time has come
It reminds me of the pain
I might leave
Leave behind
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
The fire.
It reminds me of the pain
I might leave
Leave behind
And I feel them drown my name
So easy to know and forget with this kiss
I'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
Wait in the fire.
