deep calleth deep at the sound of thy cataracts
thy waves and thy breakers have gone over me
Let darkness and privation
praise the Lord. Let hunger and pain.
Let snapping turtles in the murk
and ancient things asleep in mud,
let the hawk that takes the gosling,
praise. Let all things made of matter, melt.
Let the heart open, the belly open
to the great Y of the autopsy. Let scars praise,
cancers clap their hands.
Let the world turn like a toppled wheel,
the sea play its tambourines. The deep
calls to the deep. If all the world fell silent,
the stones would speak. Let evening come.
Take off your shirt and let it haunt the chair.
Lie sleepless. Let midnight come, and silence
like the inside of a bell. Let the stars
and the space between them,
our bodies and the space
between them, our breaths and
the space between them,
our lungs with their galleries, our hearts
with their aches and chambers, let longing
let darkness, let grief, let loneliness,
let death, oh praise, oh praise, oh praise.
_____________
Hmmm, both hasty entries in NaPoWriMo so far seem worth saving. This one (a revision of this, obviously) worth tinkering with.
Some notes:
The title is Psalm 47:2 KJV. Gosh, where have I used titles like that before?
The first line is from Miester Eckhart, whom I've been reading of late.
The hawk that takes the gosling. Here's that hawk.
Let all things made of matter, melt. "So matter, as it were, is frozen light," writes physicist David Bohm.
Let cancers clap their hands. I'm thinking of Psalm 98: "let the floods clap their hands."
toppled wheel/ the sea play its tabourines. I'm thinking of the song of Miriam the prophet, in Exodus 15:20-21, where she dances beside the Red Sea and the fallen chariot, and plays a tambourine.
the stones would speak. I'm thinking of Jesus's warning in Luke 19:40: if you silence these, the very stones would cry out.

I like it! I think the first version was stronger, though—especially the last line.