The Darkling Psalter

Andy Patton

Listen to creative renditions of the Psalms.

  1. Jul 18

    Psalm 28—You are there when the grace gathers around the table at dinner, in the hallowed halls of the real world.

    Psalm 28—You Are There When the Grace Gathers Around the Table at Dinner, in the Hallowed Halls of the Real World.   I forget how to begin, Lord. Wait for me. It’ll take a minute To find my way from here To somewhere else.   I’ve been digging ditches all summer,  Sweating through my graveclothes. I can feel the beat, beat, Beat of things going faster—my pulse,  My pitted prayers, the waltzing clock. I’ve been patting my pockets since June, And I keep coming up short. I thought I was only busy, But I watched these holes getting deeper,  And realized: one is as good as another.   All day a question runs in my head: Will you meet me more than halfway, Or will you drag me off with the wicked?  I can find their every shortfall in myself.  I have taken my sin in sips, While I waited for time to eat away at my resolve. I have settled for less And insisted it was worth it. I have pressed my hands to the wall In the space between two trains And hoped my fleeting pleas would pass for prayer.   You hold yourself silent, But I know you are there. You show yourself and dance away, You made your rumor run  Under the wind, wild as wolves,  Catching, coy, quicksilver— Purple in fingers picking blackberries, Gasping in the azaleas, Cascading in summer hollyhocks  Grown head-high and higher. You are there  In the throaty chuckle of ravens brooding  Like a gang of black toads in the oak trees. You are there when the grace gathers Around the table at dinner, In the hallowed halls of the real world, Ready to be passed again from hand to hand In bits of bread and cups of wine.   Lord, help me. Hear me. Gird yourself and guard me. Show up, my God, you plodder!  I cannot give much more than this. If you are not my help, I have none. Shepherd,  Carry me. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  2. Jul 11

    Psalm 30—No night tears can stop the birds and bells of dawn singing every morning

    I ran scared for a long time, Wanting to be safer than I was. I made narrow escapes but couldn’t  Quite shake what hounded me. I cried for help, for healing, For answers, for anything. You heard me. You gave me My life back. You hid me  In a quiet place only because I asked— But it was years before I could see it.   People of God, if the Lord has been your help,  Raise up whatever song you have. He is a whirlwind and a harrow  But you can’t shake him. His love lasts the night and all life long. He knows how to wait; Take as long as you need. No night tears can stop the birds And bells of dawn singing every morning. Like fireseed, sorrow tills the soil Where supple flowers grow.   When I prospered, I promised myself That I would always prosper,  That I would never slip. I grew bright on limelight. My life was mirrors, and everything Mimicked my gestures but never touched. I scooped laughter into my lap And every hope came by the handful. But it was all hung on the braided Thread of your favor. My promises Came to nothing when you hid your face. The faith I thought was anvils Was only a sly season That let half truths gather,  And stagger around in masquerade. You lifted the mask away, And I was dismayed. Your hammer fell and the brittle, bright Charade shattered.   Lord, have mercy. We both know I was battered, barely Able to drag grief-riddled prayers Across your threshold, And I am not out of my straits yet. What good is my life  If it becomes no different than death? Was I not scared enough already? Do the dead praise you? Do they tell stories to one another  Of your faithfulness as they lie  Side by side in the dust?   Show me your smile and this cathedral  Chest will breathe again, will sing. Make me rise and walk,  And these stumbling feet will tap out a tattoo,  Even sketch the steps of a silly dance.  End the sackcloth season and give  Me gladness back in double draughts. When the dirge days end, When I am safe again, I will not be silent. My life will be my thanks forever.   See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  3. Jul 1

    Psalm 62—It took a long time, but I found my quiet again

    It took a long time, But I found my quiet again. I wrap it around me and wait for God alone. He is my fastness, quick keep, faith’s fort, My rest and release.   How many of my battered days Slipped soundlessly to nothing? How long was I a man of strings Pushing through a hedge without end? What did I do to deserve the ire Of so many people I hardly know? If I fall, will they rise? Or will they just be rid of me And free to swallow down The loves I ceded and deck Their brows like crowns With the things I lost? They open their mouths to smile But only trouble tumbles out.   Stillness isn’t easy, But it is all I have left. So I will wait here In silence For God alone.   In the morning I come downstairs While the house sleeps. I make the coffee in the dark. I pray and fret and watch From the bay window as God’s ghost moon tumbles through What’s left  of the sky. I ravel myself back. I breathe. I watch the martins circle in the soft dawn. I learn the first lesson again: God is a refuge; rest in him.   My fears run in a small circle. I weigh them and watch them rise Like the smoke of my morning’s altar.   I have heard you, God, Once or twice, but clear and true And I am still ringing with it. You seek the lost. You guard the weak. You bring everyone the harvest Of their frantic days. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  4. Jun 18

    Psalm 41—I followed my own road home and found fear waiting

    You laid long lines in the world,  And trod out paths for our feet to follow. You said, “This is the good way—walk in it.”   The one who gives away what she gained, Will find a goodness that time won’t wear down, Will find grace a sunbeam in the blank dark. The one whose repentance  Sears stripes in her failures, Will find lies don’t last as long as they should. The one who makes a bed of her own grave,  Will wake in a new world,  Blinking at the light.   But that is not the way I went. I followed my own road home and  Found fear waiting. I fell sick And begged for healing that never came. Anxieties buzzed like flies. I waved them away, And they returned in the wake of my hand. I was never good at hiding what I suffered. I knew something was wrong, But found the wrong names for it. My head ached. I barely ate. I lost weight. Friends I thought I had took my secrets And set them where all could see. They laid wagers on whether this was the end, Or if I could last a little longer.   Lord, do you still delight in me Though I found a life I never thought I’d lead? Then wrap the slender thread Of my prayer around your finger And do not let my troubles win. Take me in. Hold me fast.  Give me back the dogged days I lost at last.  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  5. Jun 7

    Psalm 36—The clouds are not higher than the measure of God's love, nor the stars, nor the farthest flung distant folly of hope.

    The wicked man’s mind runs glad With evil thoughts and he can’t sleep. His heart tramps from wrong to wrong In a dim parade, full of all the wrong fears. He wonders why he would let this glamour go Once he got it started. He spins traps And hangs them in corners. Words tumble Out of his mouth like black spiders. He tells himself he’ll stand Infinity on edge and flick it so it spins.   But there is another wisdom and no one Has found the end of it. God’s love. You can’t shake it. It is as solid As a mountain and doesn’t rattle. The clouds are not higher Than the measure of God's love, Nor the stars, nor the farthest Flung distant folly of hope.   We can hide in it, feast on it, Drink it in, dare gale darlings Fledged under bright wings. It is free for the taking every morning As much as hand can hold or heart gather. It is a light strung between stars in long lines, Wide and white against the blank dark.   God, keep me in the slow lathe of your love. Make my soul’s bones hone and spin. Lift me up but lay low And unlace every evil plan.   See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  6. May 30

    Psalm 47—Ring the words on your hollow heart’s bell.

    Psalm 47—Ring the words on your hollow heart’s bell. Ring the wordsOn your hollow heart’s bell. Fling and strike the song To every corner: God is king. The Lord layers his ruleDown on the lacerated landIn hoards, in heaves, in mountains, in downward drawing, heaven-heighted droves.Everyone who listens lays their petty kingdomAt his feet in heaps, kneels and joins the knell,Bright blows the bell, topples Their stricken selves and tips Their spiraling heights whole over. God himself is lifted and struck,And the whole earth resounds.His unrolling trumpet blast at lastSounds heaven down to ground.Sing it back, take it upUntil everyone is wakened, Welcomed, greatened, circled Around his throne and shoutingUp to the vast, keening heights.Then the dance begins. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  7. May 22

    Psalm 29—Everything in the wide home of the world flings Godward, crying, “Glory!”

    Psalm 29—Everything in the wide home of the world flings Godward, crying, “Glory!” God’s high heaven is choired  With singers ringing back Ranks of bright light in song. Praise him!   His voice troubles over the sea, And the waters writhe and surge. The voice of God towers and crests And rises up and up and up.   His voice topples tall empires like timber,  And rattles proud cedars down. The rock beneath my feet, The ground I thought was steady, Skipped and bucked like a calf  When his clarion call sounded.   The voice of the Lord gouges flames of fire. It shakes the weary wastes like a sheet. The wind of his words Strips the trees bare and everything In the wide home of the world Flings Godward, crying, “Glory!”   Though the sea and the world rage, God is enthroned above the flood. Lord, strengthen your people. Lord, come be king and bring us peace! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  8. May 12

    Psalm 2—Don’t ask for answers; ask for waiting. You barely know the meaning of things.

    For more renditions of the Psalms, visit darklingsalter.substack.com.  Text of the rendition: Psalm 2—Don’t ask for answers; ask for waiting. You barely know the meaning of things.Why do the lost nations rage and rally  Devices against the living God? The kings of the earth take their stand, saying,   “Enough! Break these bindings. God is only a consuming fire. He will turn his hand against us. So we became stoneburners. So we split love seven ways, Were cast in gold, were heaven itself. We plotted and raged. We spoke in tongues. We saw secret things. It cost us our lives, but God, we were beautiful.   How were we supposed to love That thunderous light?  The auguries were all indifferent, And time tumbles pips up. If you go back enough It is all just dice.”   The Lord of all the earth Laughed in his wild water heart and said,   “For all your talk, you still missed Every chance to change you got. You were unbreakable, untouchable. You clad yourself and seethed. Anymore, you barely need a reason To give yourself to things  You can’t come back from. You could never pick up the hot coals  Inside yourself and kiss them. Even still, you could have lived If you had learned to take inside yourself The reprisals of your friends  When they braved your dagger-bladed smile. I wanted to gather you together And walk you through the lanes of longsuffering, But you wouldn’t. So now you have headaches And suffer through all you wanted. So now you are wires and exposed bone And fever and heartstring. So now the day wrings mute confessions out of you And you stay in bed so no one will hear them.   Then, the Lord said to me,    “Today, you are my son And I am your father forever. The throne of God is God’s alone But it was always shared. I made the earth to be given— Ask, and it is yours, But you must also take these enemies of mine. Break them like pottery; Bind them back like pieces Of your own broken body.   So don’t ask for answers;  Ask for waiting. You barely know the meaning of things. God’s wrath burns at a touch. The shelter of his kindness Is the only shelter left. If you are lucky  and wise and warned, What you get is quiet. What you get is your life. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

See All (31)

Ratings & Reviews

5
out of 5
5 Ratings

About

Listen to creative renditions of the Psalms.

Information

You Might Also Like