Singing to remember

After 2 Samuel 22 

I wrote a song, once,

a song of thanksgiving

and redemption, a song

I remember now. It is

a song of life,

a song of my life.

the song I wrote

to remember always

celebrates who

the author is,

the author of salvation,

the author of redemption

and rescue, the author

who takes me and

protects me in the cleft

of the rock, the author

who brings me to

the oasis in the desert,

the author who writes

my story. I sing

that song to remember.

 

Photograph by Vitalii Khodzinskyi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

The Spiritual Discipline of Unlearning – David Prince at Prince on Preaching.

 

Holy Humor – Joshua Budimlic at Iotas in Eternity.

We sing our song

After Psalm 130 

We sing our song,

our cry from the depths;

we sing our hope

that you’ll hear our voice.

 

Hear our voice.

Hear our voice.

 

Bulldozed by sin,

saturated with iniquity,

drowning in our sin.

None of us can stand.

 

Hear our voice.

Hear our voice.

 

And so we wait,

we wait for the Lord,

And so we hope,

we hope in his word.

 

Hear our voice.

Hear our voice.

 

With the Lord is hope.

With the Lord is redemption.

With the Lord is hope.

With the Lord is life.

 

Hear our voice.

Hear our voice.

 

Photograph by Austin Neill via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

After the Snow Melts – Trevin Wax at The Gospel Coalition.

 

Wisdom Will Laugh at Your Expense – Justin Poythress at Time & Chance.

 

The Deep Wisdom of Rootedness – Fergus Butler-Gallie at The Critic Magazine.

 

The Origins & Development of the Season of Lent – Jacob Zepp at The Imaginative Conservative. 

A Sonnet on the Transfiguration - Malcolm Guite.

A girl's song

After Luke 1:46-56 

Startling news, indeed,

what the angel said 

to the young girl, that

she would bear the son.

 

And when the news

was greeted first

by a cousin as a miracle

and with praise,

the young girl sang.

 

She sang in praise,

she sang in gratitude,

she sang in recognition,

she sang in worship,

she sang in understanding,

she sang in acceptance,

she sang in awe.

 

Photograph by Miguel Bautista via Unsplash. Used with permission.

A dance by the fire

She danced by the fire

her arms around life

her arms around the flame

that would become her life

She danced before me

she danced around me

and she danced for me

as the flame climbed high

I did not come to dance

fingernails too begrimed

I did not come to dance

to hold those soft white hands

But she stood before me

Before my sunburned face

she took my coal-stained hands

in hers and we danced

We danced by the fire

embracing the flame

and the dance became the fire

embracing our life

I danced before her

and the fire grew

the fire became the dance

and oh how we danced

and oh how we danced

In late August, the Tweetspeak Poetry staff and some of the T.S. Poetry authors met at West Bend, Indiana. One evening was devoted to reading poetry and an informal concert. We heard Tania Runyan on the fiddle, Laura Lynn Brown on the flute, and Laurie Klein on the guitar. They played Irish and Scot music, and it was difficult to keep from dancing (some of us danced, and some of us watched). The above is the second of the songs (or poems) I wrote as I listened to the music. The first is “A song from the sea.”

Sting Sisters: Shetland Fiddle Diva

Photograph by Axelle B via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

A song from the sea

I walked through the mountains

and I was seeking my fame

and I was seeking my name

and I looked in the river

and I was seeking my face

and I was seeing my face

And I walked through the forests

and I was seeking my name

and I was seeking my fame

And the tall trees spoke to me

they were weeping my name

they were weeping my fame

and the crows flew over me

and the winds passed around me

as I was looking for my name

as I was looking for my fame

and I danced before the mast

and I danced before the storm

and the ship flew onward

as it sailed across the sea

I danced beside my coffin

I danced beside my wreath

the crows flew onward

as I sailed across the sea

but I never found my name

but I never found my fame

and the ship sailed onward

and it sailed across the sea

In late August, the Tweetspeak Poetry staff and some of the T.S. Poetry authors met at French Lick, Indiana. One evening was devoted to reading poetry and an informal concert. We heard Tania Runyan on the fiddle, Laura Lynn Brown on the flute, and Laurie Klein on the guitar. They played Irish and Scot music, and it was difficult to keep from dancing (some of us danced, and some of us watched). Two of the songs they played were “Da Full Rigged Ship” and “Da New Rigged Ship,” Scottish reels that are typically played together. The above is one of the songs (or poems) I wrote as I listened to the music.

Wailing Banshees: Da Full Rigged Ship / Da New Rigged Ship

Photograph by Linnaea Mallette via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.