Thank you for being here and receiving the single, ‘So Hard To See It All’ – below is a companion piece of writing and a reflection practice – something that I hope eases intense emotions while staying with them – it’s helped me. Below that are the lyrics with links to the stories that inspired the song.
The B-side is a demo of a new song called ‘Vast Love’ written in recent weeks following one of the Artists Supporting Palestine’ Grief/Action Circles. Also live recording of So Hard. If you haven’t yet sent your address for the Grief Zine you can here
So Hard to See It All is a rewritten response to Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” (1963), a song originally written in the shadow of nuclear war. Dylan’s vision of a dystopian world shaped by human conflict deeply influenced this work, particularly his use of stark imagery and a narrator who bears witness to truth. After seeing a recent Dylan film, and recognising how enduring and relevant that song remains, I felt compelled to rework it in response to what I have been witnessing in Gaza.
As I learned Dylan’s song, one line about a mass graveyard struck me profoundly. That moment became the catalyst for this rewrite. I turned to online newspapers and photojournalism, drawing directly from real images taken by journalists on the ground. These images were then woven into the lyrics.
The song is intentionally difficult to listen to. It reflects devastation, loss, and moral injury, but it is paired with a reflective piece of writing (at the end of this companion piece) to help listeners sit with the material rather than turn away. Central to this work is deep respect for Gazan journalists, whose courage and selflessness in documenting events—often at the cost of their own lives—has made it possible for the world to witness what is happening. I also acknowledge and respect Israeli journalists who have spoken out for peace. Ultimately though, this song is dedicated to Palestinian journalists, many of whom are no longer alive, but whose images and testimonies endure.
Rather than offering a political argument, the song bears witness. The first verse focuses on landscape: desolate locations seen through the eyes of journalists. The next sections turn toward people—families sharing meals amid ruins, prayer continuing in rubble, mosques and hospitals destroyed. These images of ordinary life persisting alongside catastrophe were especially moving. Other moments confront darker realities: the killing, the apparent celebration of violence, the disturbing images of soldiers wearing the clothes of their victims, burning tents, destroyed aid vehicles, and a sense of impunity. These scenes raised painful questions about culture, power, and what humans are capable of.
Running through the song is a recognition that hatred is easy, but resisting it requires deep self-awareness. This is not only about large-scale violence, but about the smaller ways hatred lives within us all, and what it might mean to confront that honestly if peace is ever to be possible.
Later verses honor journalists as “the eyes of the world.” The song also returns to moments of fragile humanity: a girl with a birthday cake, young people dancing in rubble, children playing, an orphan and a grieving mother finding connection, a boy holding a sign reading “We deserve peace,” and a girl holding a candle at a vigil. These images of normality, resilience, and hope sit alongside the horror.
The remainder of the song follows Dylan’s original structure. My hope is that by knowing the real images behind these lyrics, listeners can slow down, breathe with them, and allow space for reflection—bearing witness rather than turning away – lyrics with links below.
Reflective practice
This was recorded last year and is still relevant. More practices like this one are available in ‘rest relaxations’ the recording below is hosted by Insight Timer.
Lyrics
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of dust and explosions
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled through the cities on fire
I’ve stepped in the middle of a thousand sad stories
I’ve been out there in front displaced with the people
I’ve been miles and miles in the mouths of mass graveyards
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s so hard to see it all
Oh, what did you show us, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did show, my darling young one?
I showed you a family that sat close together
I showed you their meal with ruins all around it
I showed you the places for prayer that had fallen
I showed you the hospitals bombed into nothing
I showed you soldiers with their laughing and killing
I showed you other soldiers in the clothes of their victims
I showed you innocent people in tents that were burning
I showed you the hole in the roof of an aid car
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s so hard to see it all
And what did you tell me, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you tell me, my darling young one?
Two thirds of the dead they were women and children
That nothing is safe but still we report it
We are the eyes of the world and that many are watching
We were taken to a places with no name or no number
https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde15/7551/2023/en/
That the word press reporter has become a target
There is no water in the mouths all around me
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s so hard to see it all
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a girl with a cake on the day of her birthday
I met some young people who danced in the rubble
400 sick babies denied permits to travel
I met orphan and mother alone with each other
I met a boy with a sign that said we deserve peace
I met another young girl, in her hands was a candle
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a so to see it all
Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s so hard to see it all
Other Links
Jean McEwan
Cover artist
Joe Holtaway 