Down by the time-out-of-mind, parched riverbed of Babeled loss,
Endless deserts in the stream and all the oaks of Bashon felled;
Yes, we lay down and lamented, drowned in canyon-wasted grief.
We remembered childhood’s delightful savor, a songed psalm
There, despairing, amidst burned hulks of the cedars, gaunt, stickly,
Hanged like forsaken, wind-blown, broken guitars of skin and bones,
Stringless, passed-over balladeers of rifting sorrow and regret;
Yet despite the worst woes, and the obscene curses of power
With no oaked help on to which to hang our emaciated hopes,
We still spoke—seraph-serenading a tender, riffed “Shalom,
Peace be on you,” amidst their ‘popular’ trees of derision,
Hates, and damns; yes, despite all to Sheol, we blessed enemies;
We chose to live transcendent, streaming in the River of Life,
And to ‘rock’ our foes’ crying infants to gentle, tender sleep,*
Cradled in the infinite love of God’s mighty-welling heart.
*Remix of Psalm 137:9
Daniel Wilcox ages. His writing has appeared in many magazines including The Danforth Review, Counterexample Poetics, Danse Macabre, and The Write Room. His first book of poetry, Dark Energy, was published by Diminuendo Press.
Before that he hiked through Cal State University Long Beach (Creative Writing), Montana, Europe, Palestine/Israel, worked in a mental institution, and taught literature to teenagers. He lives with his wife on the central coast of California. Visit his website: http://www.psalmsyawpshowls.com.