Places 34: A 20th Century Psalm
upside down, inside out,
this dyslexic generation
drums, hums, whirrs and stirs—
beats against all biorhythms
scrambling nations,
mixing stations—
yet our ears still strain to hear.
whirring blades and turning belts,
clacks, sloshes and slaps,
breaking rattles, sudden bangs,
uneven tocks,
bizzes, roars and hisses
like unwanted kisses
whelm motors past exhaustion—
Lord, where is our rest?
while echoes boomerang
through nano-space
wowing the wavelengths of listen,
microwaves play hide-and-seek
plowing with dancing additives,
tweaking jig-jangles to jazz up synapses,
trying to suffocate our stillness
with worship of Big I.
name noise, sweet; call bad, good—
global airwaves tune to tones insensible,
reprehensible
nets weave seduction,
Beg our Oi! to propaganda’s ploys—
ads inter-grated into ordinary days
through unseen micro-ways
hit on over-facted cells,
lies fly, denying lies,
facts and reason try
only to be tried—
and which is witch
and where’s our truth?
and where’s our God?
Multitudes are crying,
dying.
Come, Holy Spirit, come!
Save soul-songs and spirit sounds,
Say, “Be still” to sound-bombed bodies;
Set us apart in sanctuaries
where hearing truth can set men free.
Give us space for seeking You.
Open up the places of Your presence.
Let us hear Your heavenly sounds,
the music of the spheres.
Frantic for rest, we can
Switch off the circuit breaker,
Unhook the phone,
Plug our ears and get alone.
We can separate our souls.
We can. We can. We can
Shut the doors to all but God.
Help us see your mercy
inside of seashells and songs,
over rivers and hills, clouds and storms
and simple things like grains of sand
and smiles.
We can. We can.
And we can sing, and sing, and sing,
And hear the wind within the trees,
And find the buzzing hum of bees,
and laugh and clap and dance in praise
of God’s unchanging, loving ways.
While men may roar and rattle
and uprooting noise betray,
we can choose God’s music
and let His worship fill our days.
Faith rests between each note
that Jesus speaks—
His sweet tones still ring true—
with love enough to see us through.
An earlier version from 1997 was published in Places, 2011©
