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The Speechless Sing

  • from Psalm 29

    Heaven praise, earth sing

    Give glory, praise Gods name 

    Bow down, holy ones

    Give ear to the Holy One

     

    We listen as you thunder across oceans

    We cup ears as you echo around the globe 

    We tune in as you whisper through forests

    We catch the rhythm as mountains jump like prancing calf’s 

    We prick up as wisdom flashes like lightening

    as Word shakes the land 

    as creation sings glory. 

     

    May you rule over the waters

    May you rule over all creation

    May your blessing strengthen your people 

    May your blessing sing with peace

     

    May mercy shower upon the earth

    May we know forgiveness, 

    for misdeeds and inaction

    for hate-speak and trash-talk

    for shit-holes and holy crap

    for bare-forests and plastic seas

    for cheap glory and poetic claptrap

     

    Heaven praise , earth sing

    Give glory, praise Gods name 

    Bow down, Holy ones

    Give ear to the Holy One

     

     

     

     

  • Hesitation

    She hesitated.

    “Is that …?

    “What?”

    “The place? - where … you know?”

    He paused,

    “Could be, I suppose”

    “But how?”

    “Imagine, standing there - terrified”

    She shivered …

    “No, don't think about it”

    “But we must - comply”

    He walked to the edge, spread his arms and span hard into the air.

    She hesitated.

    “Is that …?”

    “What?”

    “The move? - that … you know?”

    He landed - hard, unbalanced

    “Can’t be”

    “Why not?”

    “Imagine, landing here - alone”

    She shivered …

    “Can’t think about it”

    “Don’t think, just fly”

    She walks unhesitatingly, spreads arms and leaps, tucks, rolls, flies towards golden entry.

    We shivered, yet rose without hesitation acclaiming perfection. 

  • Waiting

     

    It’s late. Too quiet. They wait, watch, wonder from where victory will come. 

    In the darkness a fox slinks through the hedgerows seeking easy prey; and still they wait. 

    In the starlight an owl lifts into the air, patrolling field-lines. Still, they watch.

    Then a murmur, a motion, a snapped twig, a brushed bush, a relaxing laugh - easy prey coming on.

    Watchers emerge from shadows, lift from hedgerows, spring the trap and catch thin air. No comment, closing ranks, clever briefs, courts triumphant.

    They’ll come again.

    So still, they wait.