The Day’s Scripture
Psalm 63:1-8 (CEB)
A psalm of David, when he was in the Judean desert.
God! My God! It’s you—
I search for you!
My whole being thirsts for you!
My body desires you
in a dry and tired land,
no water anywhere.
2 Yes, I’ve seen you in the sanctuary;
I’ve seen your power and glory.
3 My lips praise you
because your faithful love
is better than life itself!
4 So I will bless you as long as I’m alive;
I will lift up my hands in your name.
5 I’m fully satisfied—
as with a rich dinner.
My mouth speaks praise with joy on my lips—
6 whenever I ponder you on my bed,
whenever I meditate on you
in the middle of the night—
7 because you’ve been a help to me and I shout for joy in the protection of your wings.
8 My whole being clings to you;
your strong hand upholds me.
Reflection (a poem)
A Rich Dinner
Is your chest ready for a dry and tired land?
Here is only the residual humidity of dark ponds.
With scars like this, one’s whole cavernous belly
is hangry for company, the soul is ghosted.
Our tongues, like filtered canvas,
are dry like stained-glass where we once thought
we witnessed God, yes, in the sanctuary before
the white shirts stole power and glory-embers
when we were not looking in the transition.
But our lips will praise now and again—they contain both
impossibility and solace like insects falling
from bare solstice tree limbs, rich with dinner.
Thirsty roots continue to sip breath
in preparation of wooden harmonics in throats,
and meditation pushing against heavy,
heated air. Exhale—phhhhhwwwww
Choirs whistles the memory of joy.
You ponder everyone but Jesus in your bed.
Desire does not help. Touch does not help.
The static clinging and micro-dating and emotional
barbs that connect you for a hot second with kin
who would be strangers to kiss—
even they do not help. Even that does not help.
Great fish shout as if they have wings
to scour the surface with restless
eyes from a great mystery below.
Resurrection and embodiment and incarnation
and flesh and weakness and fasting from false meanings
all in anticipation of God’s protective arms holding
your whole entire being—am you clinging to Jesus with
boredom in your gills? Or is the man, face set towards Jerusalem,
lifting you up? You, filtering gas for air and mercy, exhaling praise.