Poets and Poems: Nicholas Samaras’ “American Psalm World Psalm”

Poets have long been interested in the Biblical psalms, and for good reasons. The psalms are written in poetic form, and read like poetry even in translation. They cover the range of human emotions, from happiness and gratitude all the way to depression. The psalms also seem to be voiced by real people, people

with questions, fears, demands, courage and cowardice. And the psalm are also set in a historical context, many of them dealing with the place of the psalmist in society and the place of the psalmist before God.

Two decades have passed since poet Nicholas Samaras published Hands of the Saddlemaker (reviewed here at Tweetspeak in 2011). He’s continued to publish poems and articles in literary publications, edited books, and contributed to anthologies. Now he has brought together 150 poems in a volume entitled American Psalm World Psalm.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Photograph by Alex Grichenko via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission. 

Joseph’s Psalm

Never have I known such fear.

Never have I felt such weight, as if all of the wood that passes through my hands presses down upon my soul.

Never have I known such a dream, a dream which changes everything.

Into my hands is placed responsibility for Mary, and for the child to come.

The child will be a son, not my son but my son, my son whom I will love and cherish.

I am to raise my son to be a man, a man who will save his people, the man not a man foretold by the scriptures.

Comprehension is hard. Acceptance is not. Acceptance becomes the obvious thing, the natural thing.

I am experienced in working common wood; it is my life. Into my hands is being placed the finest cedar of Lebanon, the wood God used to build the temple, the temple planned by David and erected by Solomon.

The best wood, the finest wood, the most beautiful.

Never have I known such fear.

Never have I know such love.

Related: Herod’s Lament.

Painting: Joseph and the child Jesus by Giovanni Battista Caracciolo (circa 1622); private collection, Venice.