1
the tension
of the harp
and bow-string
in the poet-king’s hand
taking flight
in the air
* * *
how many Psalms
expressed the same anguish
and trial
in the glorious regime
* * *
how brief the interludes
between exile
2
the Psalms are poems
or the Psalms are prayers
as if I could define either
* * *
prayer is not what I speak
but what my Deeper Self would utter
despite me
* * *
raise my shield, O Lord,
regardless of the outcome, and lift me
there’s nothing easy about love
3
New Zion
originally, Bible stories were chanted
rather than read and dissected in the rabbinical twist
hardened into bronze
even in daily devotion
in this quest of salvation
facing Jerusalem
tiring of the routine exile
where’s my power in this place?
my heart, ever so uneasy
* * *
patriots say Peace but mean Victory:
which is hardly the same outcome
or means
festering and darkening
drumbeats summoned
into crowds cheering
uniforms
or invoking the Holy One
the Prince of Peace
to their cause
* * *
even communion tokens
from Colonial-era steeplehouses
witness the contrast to our free-Gospel ministry
with their families, subscribing to box seats
squirming in this theater of pipes
so who exchanged coins
for their purity?
truly, how do you pay
with the psalter?
holy, holy, holy
in a constant delving for treasures
where others see nothing of value
from whom all blessings flow
over each stretch of turmoil
* * *
how many strands of history
and sojourn
converge on me
as I’m walking in prayer
and softly humming
a funeral hymn for comfort
some October night
shivery petals shall upend
a row of headstones, too
called to the cause of justice
4
counterpoint originates
in the descant over the cantus firmus
or maybe drumming
or the sound of feet dancing
or even droning under the chant
in the conflicted lines
of desire and pain
in the hideous bleeding wrists
and ankles
* * *
O Holy One
contrary to the ancient discipline
I country dance
and sing harmony
to once again crack the thick shell
I build around me
“in the gift of life is also the gift of time”
time, as a signature
for music
for the dance
O Holy One
bless the Singers’ Table
with its poets and musicians
free in the present
free in unity with the Holy Spirit
free in the disciplines we embrace
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
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