The tribes go up

A song after Psalm 122 

The tribes go up

to Jerusalem’s gates,

the tribes go up

to stand within.

The tribes go up

to Jerusalem’s gates,

to give thanks 

to the name

of the Lord.

 

And as we sing,

we offer our thanks,

we pray for peace,

we pray to be safe,

safe within the gates

of Jerusalem.

 

Pray for the peace

of Jerusalem;

pray for the peace

within our hearts.

Pray for the peace

of Jerusalem,

we pray for the house

of the Lord.

 

Photograph by Robert Bye via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

An Unexpected Specter – poem by Josh Bishop at Rabbit Room Poetry.

 

The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins – Sally Thomas at Poems Ancient and Modern. 

 

‘Sunshine’ and ‘A Kiss Across Time’ – poems by Martin Rizley at Society of Classical Poets.

 

A Bird in the Hand: Fifty Holy Wells, #18 – Paul Kingsnorth at The Abbey of Misrule.

 

Things Worth Remembering: Breaking Bread with the Dead – Douglas Murray on Seamus Heaney.

 

Thanksgiving and judgment

After Psalm 122 

Odd to think of a city

with a dual nature, 

as if you were telling

two tales of one city.

It was first bound

together, this city,

bound together firmly,

with purpose and intent.

It is a city for giving

thanks, offering

thanksgiving, a destination

reached by a journey,

the place containing

the house, the object

of the journey to the city,

to offer the giving

of thankfulness. And

it is the place of thrones,

where the thrones are set,

the thrones of judgment,

the thrones of the king,

thrones bound together

in judgment, bound 

together in thanksgiving,

judgment and thanksgiving

bound as one.

 

Photograph by Sander Crombach via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Broken pieces

After Psalm 122

Take one broken piece,

join with another broken piece,

collect all the broken pieces

and place the broken pieces

together and in proximity,

all these broken pieces

assembled to create 

a body

a gathering

a church.

Photograph by Nick Herasimenka via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Noises of the city

After Psalm 122

It is the silence I hear first,

but soon the noises overcome,

the bleating and lowing

of the animals.

Drawing closer, it is the sounds

I hear next, the sounds

of laughter and argument and 

rejoicing and singing and

prayer, the words spilling

from reservoirs and fountains.

It is the clicking of my feet

in shoes I hear next, the sounds

of hard leather 

clicking in the cobbles,

adding to the music.

Photograph by Hanny Naibaho via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Stones under my feet

After Psalm 122

These stones under my feet

are singing as I walk,

each step a note

each pace a refrain

each stride a psalm.

They sing together,

these stones, they sing

in harmony, the sound

rising upward like a prayer,

the music of the spheres,

the language of heaven.

Photograph by Bastian Ignacio Vega Cani via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The place we gather

After Psalm 122

We walk the stones of the streets

of this city, the houses of rock

packed together, a closeness

compacting the hearts and emotions

and thoughts and all that we are

together.

And those who come up for a time

walk the stones of the streets,

words of praise on their lips

as they walk to the thrones

the thrones of house,

the thrones of the house 

of David.

Within these walls,

these stones under our feet,

these rocks has aping houses

and palaces and citadels and temple,

we seek peace,

we seek security

we seek blessing

and find all three.

Photograph by Simon Matzinger via Unsplash. Used with permission.