Psalm 1

This poem began as a metrical psalm but wound up being an experiment in slant rhyme. I think I wanted it to sound like a cross between T. S. Eliot and Emily Dickinson. I’m not sure it works out too well, but I’m also at the limit of the time I want to put into it; so here it is.

Psalm 1

I walked along the highways of the dead,
With countless others treading down the ruts,
And now and then a shade would stoop and grub,
And others squatted grimly in the dust.

Have mercy on me in the shaking of the boughs.

And there I thought of one who, like a tree,
Takes root by water. Unmoved day and night,
He shares the meditation of the leaves
Drinking in the water and the light.

Have mercy on me in the shaking of the boughs.

The judgment of the wind is from the east.
It strips the highways bare and blasts the dust
Of all things into nowhere. What it leaves
Has roots beside the water, and it lives.

Have mercy on me in the shaking of the boughs.

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About middlingpoet

From the Gawain poet to Rainer Maria Rilke: I love traditional poetry.
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