April 10: In a Rush, Psalm 33, Tired

Here is today's psalm.  I almost didn't post it  because I don't think it's done.  But I have to keep my Lenten vow.  I'm in a rush.  It's late.  My son is tired, and my daughter is cranky.  I need to get home.

Saint Marty apologizes for being so abrupt.  He doesn't have a choice.  Be kind about this poem.


Psalm 33:  Lazarus Speaks

I heard His voice in that cold place,
Calling me from darkness to light.
I left my bed of stone, stepped back
To sun and hunger and need.  My sisters,
Martha, Mary, their need for me,
Strong as ten thousand angels,
Returned me to flesh and muscle,
Blood and bone, bowls of dates, bread still
Warm from the fire.  They fill me with want,
Have made me thirsty and tired again,
Cold at night, under moon, stars.
Neighbors avoid me like the leper, afraid
Of stories I may tell of endless dark,
The taste of death in my mouth
Like unclean meat. But I have nothing
To tell them.  No conversations
With Moses, Elijah.  No valleys
With souls piled like grain
On the threshing floor.  I have
The itch of sand in my hair
The ache in my loins for woman.
The constant call of my body for
The meat of lamb, cool wine, water.
And the work of breath, in, out, in, out.
I would trade it all for one more minute
In that cave, away from the urge
To lift my face and hands and voice,
To hope, to sing a psalm of human
Longing to the blue and empty heavens.