Today I'm offering my Psalm #22, which is inspired by the text from Isaiah 55. I'd be remiss if I didn't give a little nod to Carl Sandburg. But that's it. Just a little nod.
"Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat!" Isaiah 55:1
Psalm #22 (For the Thirsty)
Who received the messages today, of your brother’s business failing, or father’s spill down the slick steps? Or did you see your cousins contrasted against licking flames? Baltimore burning.
[tweetherder text="Women with their mirrors, looking, painting lips, hoping to be noticed by husbands, wandering."]Women with their mirrors, looking, painting lips, blushing cheeks, hoping to be noticed by husbands, wandering.[/tweetherder]
Men in the basement, clicking. Synapse firers. Face flushers. All the profiteers of the pleasure traffickers, wooing.
The man in a closet thirsting for fire. Rocks and numb, rocks and numb. The blushing alcoholics daily born. Shooting, shooting, always shooting. Ever- thirsting.
The doctor x-raying, the lawyer arguing, the wage worker at the restaurant, tip cursing. Vendors vending what machines cannot. Executives executing everything. Everyone pitting family against the score, sacrificing.
The soccer mom, going, going, in yoga pants, buying an idea of perhaps meditation, not its practice. Our children measured, graded, fitted, finished, scoring, scoring, always scoring.
The long-legged girl, the pock-faced boy, the collegians, who in their beauty do not believe their beauty, doubting.
[tweetherder text="Who thirsts the itchy thirst, unscratchable? Throat fire. Bone thirst. Brain thirst burning."]Who thirsts the itchy thirst, unscratchable? Throat fire. Bone thirst. Brain thirst burning.[/tweetherder]
Collective come. Congregation come. Hands joined, pulling, being pulled to moneyless milk and meat markets of knowing.
Come honest. Come thirsty. Come together. Drink prophecies from chalices of people, filling being filled, multiplying, loving, gleaming.
Come everyone. Everyone come.
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