3rd Psalm- A Cry For Help in the Dark Night
God,
I was considering
this morning on the train
several things that
gave me a fleeting
sense of happiness.
I thought I
appreciated them,
but I remembered, also,
how short they were.
And I remembered
that during a
commercial break
from ALCS game 6,
Fox News Chicago
outraged me
and tried to lure more
viewers for the late news
by showing some of the
security footage
from the train bombings
in Madrid
(that I’d forgotten).
They showed the
People Running
in the smoky station
and a bomb exploded.
God,
baseball seems
real small.
And that reminds
me,
Why is all the ugliness
so huge, and all the
things I’m told
to remind me of
your faithfulness
are really very
small?
Your faithfulness
is “Great”
isn’t it?
God,
What about this
darkness, this despair
and sadness and
howling rage?
What of this
exhaustion and
total disappointment
and Dread?
I believe that You
are big enough
and strong,
and are able
to blow this out
of me,
but I don’t know
how to ask.
Now. Is this the
Myth of Healing,
and how Lovely People
die?
Is prayer for healing
simply exercise?
Is it my faith in
you that makes the
difference, or my
faith in my faith?
And if it is the latter,
God,
then who am I
to worship?
God,
I’m waiting to die.
I’m rendered rather
ineffective
and am
Quietly Disappearing
this weekend.
10/21/04
Tired of Screaming
"Love Me"
2nd Psalm- Of the Morning
I was recently directed
to a computerized
Sinners' Prayer
fulminating in a chance to
win an H2 Hummer.
The anathema
and the insult.
I was, thereby, further
convinced of my doom.
Another story I heard
was of a [wayward] brother
in Tulsa who claims his
own personal yellow H2
is indeed his Christian trademark.
The other brother who related this
unto me & mine said:
"While you're fucking up the environment,
your church is fucking up the gospel.
A fitting trademark, indeed."
Our Lord has blessed me
Golden
With an opportunity to
understand these two
divergent narratives
and charged me, it would seem,
with reconciliation.
God, I'm not so sure
I'm smart enough to
pull this off.
I'm not at all so certain
that my rage can be
contained.
And if G.W.
should win again this year,
I'm not convinced
the gap to come
will be one I
can bridge.
I'd like some
practical advice on
how to lean not
on my own understanding,
since it's all you've
given me
apart from righteous anger
(the answer book seems
pretty confusing, since
men have taken to distorting).
You can break us with
a rod of iron
and dash us into
pieces as a
potter's vessel.
But will you, now,
instead of that,
bring us to Torah
and Jubilee
so my brother will
give up his Hummer
and, I, my
presumption of
your right hand.
10/15/04
Psalm 1: Of the Morning
Even though
the
Hairclub commercial
kept me up late
with its bad replacements
of self-esteem and
sad pictures of
mangy women,
I feel pretty good at
six-thirty a.m.
and am quite looking
forward to a special
day.
selah
The train has decided
to be somewhat crowded
this morning
but I am sitting alone
in a single chair
and have on brown socks
with
my black shoes
and dusty-green
pants.
selah
I am going today
to a fancy luncheon
where
the Colombian activist
will inform us of
current conditions
in
forgotten old Colombia.
I’m very excited.
selah
Though my rent is
13 days late
I feel hopeful
about the day.
I’ve always felt
Provided for
By God and the
talents He has given me.
For instance:
Today I will eat lunch
for free
and with the
Colombian Activist,
at that.
selah
A New Discipline
I have set a new project for myself.
In the coming year I intend to write 150 psalms.
Originally I thought I should get up early (earlier, I should say, considering the fact that my normal wage-slave job requires me to open the school where I work by seven-thirty a.m. Monday through Friday... I get up early already, that's what) and write a psalm each morning for 150 days.
Day two I barely got to work on time.
Four days in I wrote the second psalm.
Sniff.
Let's be realistic. I can write 150 poems in a year. However, 150 poems in 150 days seems like more than a pipe-dream.
So. Here I will add, as frequently as I can produce, brand new psalms of devotion and failure and fear and joy, but only as often as I can get my lazy ass around to doing it.
I hope you enjoy.
Well, I hope we both enjoy.
Paz,
Salaam,
Shalom
-tackcity
