psalm 12: silver strings

silver strings
so much need
in the world and
so much talk,
so many kind
duplicitous words
in response to
so much deprivation
and want.

don’t let me fall
into the speech of
of the pleasant and
cynical,
from the words that
serve only to increase
my own comfort while
keeping the pain of
others at bay.

teach me to speak
your truth:
words that resonate like
a silver string
forged and refined to
utmost purity,
words that pierce the
hard shell of equivocation,
words that reverberate
with raw precision,
words that create
whole worlds
anew.

psalm 9: the oppressed are your chosen

Women's liberation rally in Miami, 1972. (Abbas/Magnum Photos)

Women’s liberation rally in Miami, 1972. (Abbas/Magnum Photos)

the oppressed are your chosen –
their cries
hymns of praise to
the source of liberation.

whenever you hear our sad
psalms of despair, the
dirges that affirm that
persecution is our destiny,
turn us
show us the arc of history
that bends inevitably
toward justice.

open our eyes to
the graveyards of nations
whose oppression has
rebounded upon them
whose insatiable desire was
their final ruination.

help us to understand the source
of our true power –
not in the flame of human cruelty that
inevitably flickers and dies,
but in the inexhaustible fire
that burns in the hearts
of all who struggle
to be free.

a psalm 150 slam

photo: Stewart Martin

photo: Stewart Martin

shout your praise with every
thing you have with everything
you own scream out praises with
howling bursts of laughter rising
soaring arias of gratitude shrey
out praise sobbing
wailing beat your
breast like a broken shattered
timbrel dance all you
insomniacs wearing your
tangled twisted sheets like holy robes let
every living breathing roaring
writhing spitting breath
sing praises can i get a
halleluyah

Psalm 126: Our Souls Ascend

Painting by Lucas van Valckenborch (1595)

Painting by Lucas van Valckenborch (1595)

(I’ve I tweaked Psalm 126!)

In our dream of return our
souls ascend crossing
over to the place of promise along
the way we sing, we laugh, we praise
source of our liberation then
then waking we cry
bring us back just as you
send water to parched desert river beds
let those who sow with tears reap
with song.
Though we plant these seeds in sorrow,
we know someday this dry hard ground
will blossom forth, yes
very soon we will reap a
bountiful harvest.

A Song of Ascents for Rosh Hashanah

My new take on Psalm 126 – it feels just right for Rosh Hashanah.

Shanah Tovah U’Metukah – May you and may we all be blessed with a sweet and renewing New Year!

Psalm 126
My song of assent
I will return from this exile
wake up
from this bad dream
my crazy laughter’s busting out
I’m learning to sing
all over and over and over
again
only now do I know
you were there all along
coaxing me along to this
place of my return oh yes
you’ll bring me home
like water
roaring down dry river beds
I’ll be coming home
those who sowed with tears
will reap with joy
those who bury their pain deep
will soon gather
their bountiful harvest

The Anti-Psalms of Alicia Ostriker

I’ve been reading a lot of poet/scholar Alicia Ostriker’s stuff lately – and find myself especially drawn to her creative observations on the Bible. (Highly recommended, her book “For the Love of God: The Bible as an Open Book.”)

Check out her take on the Psalms:

The Psalms are glorious. No, the Psalms are terrible. No, the Psalms are both glorious and terrible, both attractive and repulsive to me emotionally and theologically. I read as a poet and a woman, a literary critic and a left-wing Jew who happens to be obsessed with the Bible. And when I read these poems, I experience a split-screen effect: wildly contradictory responses.

As Catullus says: I love and hate. And it is excruciating.

The Psalms are overwhelmingly beautiful as poems. They represent the human spirit, my own spirit, in its intimate yearning for a connection with the divine Being who is the source of all being, the energy that creates and sustains the universe. Unlike the portions of the Bible that lay down rules and regulations (I skip these), and unlike the narratives that tell compelling tales of patriarchs and matriarchs, judges, warriors and kings, but don’t tell how they feel, what they think, what it all means to them–the Psalms are love poems to God. Since the course of true love never does run smooth, the Psalms are poems of emotional turbulence.

Wrestling with the what she calls “the need of God, the violence of god,” Ostriker herself has written what she calls “anti-Psalms” – consciously addressing a “God who deals cruelly with us and demands our praise.”

Here is one example (I just love what she does here):

I am not lyric any more
I will not play the harp
for your pleasure

I will not make a joyful
noise to you, neither
will I lament

for I know you drink
lamentation, too,
like wine

so I dully repeat
you hurt me
I hate you

I pull my eyes away from the hills
I will not kill for you
I will never love you again

unless you ask me

If you are digging this kind of thing as much as I do, read Ostriker’s essay “Psalm and Anti-Psalm: A Personal View” and this conversation on the Psalms between Ostriker and Christian poet Peter O’Leary.