The chords of the harp pluck holy honey
Into air that drips psalm into soul.
I reach for music, but like time
Full and invisible, it slips through fingers.
So I cling to words, repeatable, readable,
Sacred words that settle into the deep.
I long, yes, I faint with longing
Sings the psalmist to a God
And a girl who floats in longing’s current.
I am swimming free through
Streams of honey and strings of harp,
Riding the wave of thick and sweet,
Swept away by its rich melody.
Floating in longing’s deep stream
My grip on the familiar, loosened
My hold onto comfort, released
While cool ripples tickle my toes.
And slowly gold turns to blue
Honey to water
Harp to hope
Awakened to peace bleeding through,
As blue water rushes healing from the inside
Where His words settled into the deep.
I am surprised by a fresh sound
That grows and builds around the song of the strings.
A sound completely new, but strangely familiar.
It is the sound of clouds rattling to the beat of clapping hands,
And the earth quaking to the pounding of dancing feet.
It is the sound of mountains moving,
And rocks crying out.
It is the sound of my own voice shouting praise
To the current of a river flowing within me.
Again I reach for music, but like time it slips away.
So I cling to joy,
Tangible, palpable, rhythmic joy,
Sacred joy that settles into the deep.
via Lindsay Caldwell on pinterest