If the mountains swell and rumble, split and tumble
into the sea,
and the waters froth and foam, rise and roar,
and if the politicians rage, and the nations get up
on their horses of war,
and God says, “That’s enough!”
then burns all the land mines and missiles and fighter jets:
and the empires kneel,
and the propagandists renounce their tongues,
and the money puppets empty their pockets,
and the shores and hills grow still —
well, that would be a wonderful story:
like the close of a good book, where a joyful river
with pleasing streams
is running through the centre of the city,
and the people call it Holy, believing
the Spirit of God swims in the river’s depths,
rides her waves and runs her rapids:
God’s wild mercy and flying wet hair catching the laughing sun,
and no one needs a fortress, and no one needs a refuge,
and no one needs to panic, and no one needs pills,
when the Lord of impossible beauty, and bracing stillness,
is with us,
here, in our tear-soaked rooms, our trembling hospitals;
with us, in the storms of these stampeding times.
Years ago, in one of my devout periods, I memorized much Scripture, including Psalm 46. Never did that seem more of a blessing gift than now, while reading your re-seeing of the Hebrew poet’s poem. Was this poem one of those rare givings that sometimes happens to persistent writers? or was it wrung from you line by slow line through determined hope? I loved reading it and without meaning to, began reading it again for its sound, as if I was still in the classroom and preparing to read it with students. I’m trying to decide which line I like better – “God’s wild mercy and flying wet hair catching the laughing sun” or “the Lord of impossible beauty and bracing stillness / is with us.” Both will be in my mind for the next insomnia-prolonged night.
Edna, your response fills my heart. I love that this connected in this intimate way. Thank you for writing!
Inspite of . . . God’s prevailing, abiding presence “with us”. God hasn’t moved!
Thank you, Ike. Amen.
“the Lord of impossible beauty, and bracing stillness,
is with us,
here, in our tear-soaked rooms, our trembling hospitals;
with us, in the storms of these stampeding times”
So beautiful, thank you.
Thank you for this, Kellie.
When I see “grow mercy” in my in-box, I wait until there is a space to read it, for it cannot be something I read while making my morning coffee or gathering things for my day at the studio. I sit down, quiet, and I find myself in a posture of expectation. What is it that makes me stop when I see a new posting from you: the compelling coupling of word pictures? The gravitas of someone who knows sorrow? The slight lean toward political and religious cynicism and sadness? Thankyou, again. This one is beautiful and brought me the gift of tears.
Karen, I’m humbled, honoured, and truly grateful for these thoughts. Thank you again.
Wow, Stephen, This one got me. And all the comments as well. You move us all, thank you.
Thank you, Kirk! That means a lot.
Thanks, Steve – we hold on to this hope, despite…. My reading in Luke recently was in chapter 21 – “nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom….”
Thanks, Sam. On your reading: was there ever a time, when some nation was not rising against another nation?