Whispered in the chamber
I am going insane.
Our desires, our being, our muchness...
astray we all go in all our own ways.
I cannot fathom the depth of dissonance
found navigating the open waters
of interpersonal relationship.
I cannot reconcile by reason—
let alone by right relation—
with flesh and blood beside me.
I cannot speak as I ought to.
I cannot see as I ought to.
I cannot withstand the conflict.
I cannot mediate with madness.
To the right— I am opposed.
To the left— I am opposed.
Behind and before— I am opposed.
Below and above— I am opposed...
... nearly.
There is mercy from above.
There is kindness from above.
Yet, if to such love above I would appeal,
the opposition downward pulls,
in all directions opposite—
to pull asunder and suppress such lofty longing,
to scatter and supplant the foolish speech
of a fool whose trust is upward sent.
I cannot reach up—
to where I find my only respite.
Such love is left unilateral in its relation,
woefully unrequited,
woefully bereft of right response.
I cannot ascend...
All other paths permitted
are met without measure
by conflict and dissonance,
by opposition and resistance.
Who will receive me in pursuit of peace?
Will the One Above bring himself to me,
to bring me to himself?
I am on his time, under his watch.
One Above, Most High,
let the abyss wide open,
even as a mouth wide open,
satisfy their appetite for opposition.
Let their craving for conflict overtake me,
if you are not satisfied
to raise me where you are...
if you are not satisfied
to return for what is yours.
One Above, Most High,
you alone are merciful and gracious—
all others deceive and then devour.
Let me dissolve and return
to the dust from which you formed me—
into which your lips bequeathed your breath.
Let me be undone before you,
that this conflict
perpetual and implacable
might prevail
in the purpose you propose.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."
To the dust I would return—
as your love in discipline declared.
Unto ashes I would be consumed—
that the breath in the altar's smoke
might finally ascend to your abode.
You are ruler.
I am ruled.
You are master.
I am slave.
You are.
I am not.
One above, Most High,
release me from this madness;
I am wearied with war,
from within and without.
Maker, I am sorry:
I go astray in all my own ways;
I miss your mark.
You are willing,
but my frame is weak;
too frail to withstand your discipline.
You will not discipline your child unto death—
but there is madness worse than death.
That is, prevailing pain without peace.
That is, ceaseless striving without rest.
That is, the restless sea without horizon
where the waters of chaos win their way,
their ever expansive ends ever endless,
without limit, without restraint.
All my motions are in vain.
All my meditations are in vain.
All my pursuits
for reason,
for peace,
are pursued in vain.
One Above, Most High,
please finish what you began.
Somehow, this discipline
will bring your pleasure.
Somehow, your righteous kingdom
will come.
Somehow, your good and perfect will...
will be done—
even in this land below,
flooded with blood,
even as it is before your throne.
Whether I will be rescued I do not know—
still, that is your promise...
Even so, I no longer long for rescue—
only rest from this crooked and twisted generation.
Indeed, I desire de-creation.
I desire the destiny of dust—
for that is what I am...
As your discipline declares in all directions:
to the right and to the left,
behind and before,
below and above...
... nearly.
There is mercy and there is kindness from above.
Only, may such mercy show such kindness,
that your dust might rest in peace.
Finish with our madness, Father.
We neither know our right hand nor our left,
that wisdom might be held with trust in love.
Forgive us, Father.
We know not what we do.
... for you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.
All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.
He will not always chide,
nor will he keep his anger forever.
He does not deal with us according to our sins,
nor repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so YHWH shows compassion to those who fear him.
For he knows our frame;
he remembers that we are dust.
As for man, his days are like grass;
he flourishes like a flower of the field;
for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
and its place knows it no more.
O YHWH, in distress they sought you;
they poured out a whispered prayer
when your discipline was upon them.
Like a pregnant woman
who writhes and cries out in her pangs
when she is near to giving birth,
so were we because of you, O YHWH;
we were pregnant, we writhed,
but we have given birth to wind.
We have accomplished no deliverance in the earth,
and the inhabitants of the world have not fallen.
Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise.
You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!
For your dew is a dew of light,
and the earth will give birth to the dead.
Come, my people, enter your chambers,
and shut your doors behind you;
hide yourselves for a little while
until the fury has passed by.
For behold, YHWH is coming out from his place
to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity,
and the earth will disclose the blood shed on it,
and will no more cover its slain.
After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), “I thirst.” A jar full of sour wine stood there, so they put a sponge full of the sour wine on a hyssop branch and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, “It is finished,” and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
When a man’s ways please YHWH,
he makes even his enemies to be at peace with him.
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