One of the things I’ve heard most often from members is that you’d like more ways to keep and return to these psalm renditions—especially well-designed PDFs that can live somewhere other than your inbox.

So I’ve been working on something new.

The Pilgrim’s Way is the first in what I hope will become a series of small Darkling Psalter chapbooks: thematic collections designed to be read slowly, saved, printed, and returned to.

This first collection gathers ten psalm renditions around one of the Psalms’ oldest images for the life of faith: the way. These are psalms about wandering and being led, losing the path and finding it again, walking through danger, waiting, taking refuge, and coming home.

The Pilgrim’s Way includes Psalms 1, 5, 16, 17, 23, 25, 26, 32, 37, and 43.

Paid members can download the complete chapbook below.

Read more

Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Youtube.

Rendition of Psalm 20

May the Lord hear you
And answer with strong wings
Beating on gale winds.
May your help come 
Even before the need is raised—
Swift as hunting hawks, fleet as falcons .
May he send you every help you ask,
Bigger than heart hoped, dream guessed, 
Or mind ever tried.

Then we will watch you and sing
Glad, great-hearted songs.
Then we will see that our God
Knows how to save.
We’ll know the silent sky
Can speak, and holy heaven 
Ring like struck bells.
Some laugh at our long odds
And hope in what their hands can touch,
But we brim and run over
Even when we raise
Empty hands the highest.

Lord, we rise and wait at hopefall
For the sound of hushed wings.
Hear us.

Dive deeper into the Darkling Psalter with the Member Podcast.

Members Podcast

If you would like to move this project one step closer to publication, sign up on this form to request the Darkling Psalter in print.

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The Darkling Psalter is a reader-supported publication. To support the work and gain access to a growing library of member-only content, become a paid subscriber.

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More Newsletters from Andy

Liturgical Letters

*Liturgical Letters* is a daily prayer letter following the rhythm of the Christian year. Each post includes Scripture, a psalm, a Scripture reading, and historic prayers.

By Andy Patton

Diary of an Old Soul

Walk through a year with George MacDonald. Diary of an Old Soul is George MacDonald's remarkable cycle of 366 devotional poems—one for every day of the year. Receive each poem on the day for which MacDonald wrote it.

By Andy Patton

Psalm 23 begins on a path we would not have chosen for ourselves. God does not always lead us around the valley, but through it. Psalm 38 takes us into the wreckage of our own wandering, walking the long lanes of grief through consequences of choices—our own and others’.

Psalm 1 returns us to the question of the way itself: how do we learn to walk differently? And Psalm 40 ends with God drawing us out of the pit, setting our feet on solid ground, and establishing our steps.

Together, these four psalms trace a difficult walk with God: being led, losing the way, learning it again, and finding our feet set firm.

Read more

Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Youtube.

Rendition of Psalm 14

Every fool knows God is gone,
So they give themselves to things
They can’t come back from; 
Feed themselves on limelight; 
Live by the hope of moving on.
Like everyone who has sold themselves,
They insist it was worth it.

The Lord looks down to see
If anyone has yet let
Goodness creep up on them, 
Or let the hard hands of grief
Shake and wake them, 
But he sees knurled knuckle hearts,
Hearts that snarl, hearts far gone.
Not even one is ready to do good.

They tell themselves they’ve tallied God—
Totted up his promises, but none solved, 
None stacked against his wrongs; 
All yielded impossible sums 
Only a fool would count on. 

None call upon the Lord. 
Rather they eat God’s people
As one devours an oyster.
They would pry open our inner parts 
And swallow us down with sauces.
They laugh at jokes that aren’t there,
And hollow themselves like bird bones. 
At night, they grind panicseed 
Between dull teeth and wake gasping,
Thinking they have heard a voice. 

But God is a falcon. God has claws on.
His silence is a hunting hawk.
His wing shadow passes over 
The weak, marks them.
His dread dives all down wilder.
His love is with them, prowling wider.

Oh, that salvation would find us,
Fall on us, hem us in,
Scatter back this rabble,
And make us glad again.

Dive deeper into the Darkling Psalter with the Member Podcast.

Members Podcast

If you would like to move this project one step closer to publication, sign up on this form to request the Darkling Psalter in print.

Yes! Count me in.

The Darkling Psalter is a reader-supported publication. To support the work and gain access to a growing library of member-only content, become a paid subscriber.

Subscribe now

More Newsletters from Andy

Liturgical Letters

*Liturgical Letters* is a daily prayer letter following the rhythm of the Christian year. Each post includes Scripture, a psalm, a Scripture reading, and historic prayers.

By Andy Patton

Diary of an Old Soul

Walk through a year with George MacDonald. Diary of an Old Soul is George MacDonald's remarkable cycle of 366 devotional poems—one for every day of the year. Receive each poem on the day for which MacDonald wrote it.

By Andy Patton

Before we get into this episode of the Members Podcast, I want to ask a question. Since starting the second podcast, we’ve done a series on spiritual formation through the lens of the Darkling Psalter; we have paired psalms, one dark, one light, and reflected on the resonances between the two; we have done author’s notes as I go in depth on the meaning of one of the renditions; and we’ve grouped a handful of psalms thematically and listened to them back-to-back.

My question for you is: What have you found helpful, and what would you like more of? One of these categories or something new? I want this podcast to be useful for people who want to go deeper with the Darkling Psalter, and I’m hoping to get some feedback on what would be best for that.

Let me know what you’ve enjoyed the most:

If you have an idea for something that’s not on there, leave it in the comments.

Now on to this week’s episode.

Psalm 19 Walkthrough

Psalm 19 begins with one of the most familiar images in the Psalms: the heavens declaring the glory of God. But what does it actually mean for creation to speak without words?

This episode of the Members Podcast takes a closer look at Psalm 19, with a nerdy detour into the Milky Way, light-years, and what’s really happening when you look up at the night sky.

Read more

The episode begins with Psalms 42 and 43, which almost merge into a single psalm. They share the same refrain and seem to continue the same prayer: a thirsty, restless soul longing for God, asking why he seems so far away, and asking for his help.

Then, in Psalm 46, the instability spreads outward until the whole world seems to be coming apart—mountains falling, waters roaring, nations raging.

Psalm 62 arrives somewhere quieter. The psalmist has learned to wait. Not because the instability has disappeared, but because it has found something that doesn’t move.

So these four psalms move from restlessness and longing, through upheaval, and finally into stillness—from a soul searching for its refuge to a soul learning to rest there.

Read more

For this episode of the Members Podcast, I’m trying something a little different. Instead of reading a new psalm, I’m taking you behind the scenes of my rendition of Psalm 1 and throwing in some commentary to boot.

In the episode, I talk about the recurrent image of the tree of life as it appears in Genesis, the gospels, Revelation, and Psalm 1; why the …

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Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Youtube.

Rendition of Psalm 46

When trouble days came,
I rooted and waited for God.
Though the walls of the world give way,
And the mountains are upended,
And the foaming waves climb 
As high as the sky; I will stay settled here. 
I looked a fool, but my shelter stood.

Father, sweep me into your high hold
And seal the doors. River me in
And make me glad again. 
Though all the madness that ever was
Arrayed itself around your walls,
It can’t claim us. It takes no share of us.
No rage, nor waves can rise higher than God. 

He keeps an unimaginable summer
That evil can’t blacken or break.
He makes wars cease.
He breaks bows and splinters spears,
Sears chariots, seeds silence,
Raises his words above the din, 
And sets the world right again.

So be still. Be small. Go quiet.
Love and sing and wonder—
Unharmed and unarmed. 
Rest. Watch. 
He is God. 
He doesn’t need you to lift him up;
He is under your feet. He carries you. 

Dive deeper into the Darkling Psalter with the Member Podcast.

Members Podcast

If you would like to move this project one step closer to publication, sign up on this form to request the Darkling Psalter in print.

Yes! Count me in.

The Darkling Psalter is a reader-supported publication. To support the work and gain access to a growing library of member-only content, become a paid subscriber.

Subscribe now

More Newsletters from Andy

Diary of an Old Soul

Walk through a year with George MacDonald. Diary of an Old Soul is George MacDonald's remarkable cycle of 366 devotional poems—one for every day of the year. Receive each poem on the day for which MacDonald wrote it.

By Andy Patton

Liturgical Letters

*Liturgical Letters* is a daily prayer letter following the rhythm of the Christian year. Each post includes Scripture, a psalm, a Scripture reading, and historic prayers.

By Andy Patton

I’m trying something a bit different for this episode of the Members Podcast. Instead of reading a new psalm, I walk through my rendition of Psalm 18 and explain the poetic and theological choices behind it. It’s part commentary on Psalm 18 and part casual author’s notes.

Read more

I wanted to pass along a daily literary resource in newsletter form: Diary of an Old Soul.

Diary of an Old Soul

Walk through a year with George MacDonald. Diary of an Old Soul is George MacDonald's remarkable cycle of 366 devotional poems—one for every day of the year. Receive each poem on the day for which MacDonald wrote it.

By Andy Patton

George MacDonald’s Diary of an Old Soul is a collection of 366 devotional poems—one for every day of the year—from a Christian poet who influenced people like Lewis, Tolkien, and Chesterton in countless ways.

If you’d like to receive these poems in your inbox day by day, there is Substack for that now:

• What it is: A single short poem delivered each morning, written by George MacDonald for that specific day of the year.

• Why read it: It offers a brief, grounding moment of reflection and prayer to start or end your day.

As always, thank you for reading and being a part of The Darkling Psalter.

Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Youtube.

Rendition

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. 

Dive deeper into the Darkling Psalter with the Member Podcast.

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If you would like to move this project one step closer to publication, sign up on this form to request the Darkling Psalter in print.

Yes! Count me in.

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Today we’re returning to our series of paired psalms—listening to two together, one leading into the other. This time, Psalm 43 and Psalm 16.

I have given the rendition of Psalm 43 the very long title “It Wasn’t Away from My Wreck That I Found You, but in the Middle of It.” because i felt that line captured the heart of what is happening in the psalm. The psalm comes from a place of confusion, doubt, wrestling, and desperation. It opens with a cascade of hard questions: If you are my refuge, why do I go about mourning? If you are my safety, why am I always in flight? The poet is hounded and hackled, watching fear run like a song through their head — it says: Faith is a fool’s game; faith is razor-bladed.

But there is a shift in the middle. It isn’t that everything suddenly goes right but the lost-ness pivots somehow towards hope through the medium of prayer. It ends with the line: O my soul, why would you come this farTo fall now? Hold your hope aloft. None of this is what it seems.”

On the other hand, the posture of Psalm 16 is that of someone finding refuge inside the shelter of God’s care. It says: You are my God; what other home do I have but where you are? It describes a return of what was lost. In the words of hte rendition: “My old loves all return like birds to eat from my hands.” There is the astonishing discovery of contentment. The lines of my life lead here… I didn’t know joy could run this full.

Read together, these psalms trace a single journey. The rendition of Psalm 43 teaches us how to hold on to hope before we can see it. Psalm 16 remembers what that hope eventually finds.

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Here is Liturgical Letters.

Each morning, the new Substack will send out a short daily office: a historic collect, a psalm, a brief Scripture reading, and a closing prayer. The whole thing takes about five minutes to read. The idea was to give people a way to start every day with a little bit of prayer and scripture in a way that was still small enough to become a habit.

If a short, consistent pattern of Scripture and prayer would be helpful to you, you can sign up here.

Liturgical Letters

*Liturgical Letters* is a daily prayer letter following the rhythm of the Christian year. Each post includes Scripture, a psalm, a Scripture reading, and historic prayers.

By Andy Patton

Here is today’s office so you can see what it’s like:

A New Teaching with Authority

Ordinary Time • Week 9

“They were all amazed, so that they questioned among themselves, saying, ‘What is this? A new teaching? For with authority he commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him!’”

—Mark 1:27

Collect

Merciful Father, whose Son stretched out his hand to cleanse the leper and restore the outcast: Grant that we, having received your mercy, may show compassion without fear, welcome those who are forgotten, and faithfully bear witness to the healing power of your kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.

Psalm 111

World English Bible (WEB)

1 Praise the Lord!

I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart,

in the council of the upright, and in the congregation.

2 The Lord’s works are great,

pondered by all those who delight in them.

3 His work is honor and majesty.

His righteousness endures forever.

4 He has caused his wonderful works to be remembered.

The Lord is gracious and merciful.

5 He has given food to those who fear him.

He always remembers his covenant.

6 He has shown his people the power of his works,

in giving them the heritage of the nations.

7 The works of his hands are truth and justice.

All his precepts are sure.

8 They are established forever and ever.

They are done in truth and uprightness.

9 He has sent redemption to his people.

He has ordained his covenant forever.

His name is holy and awesome!

10 The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

All those who do his work have a good understanding.

His praise endures forever!

Mark 1:21–28

World English Bible (WEB)

21 They went into Capernaum, and immediately on the Sabbath day he entered into the synagogue and taught.

22 They were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as having authority, and not as the scribes.

23 Immediately there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out,

24 saying, “Ha! What do we have to do with you, Jesus, you Nazarene? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are: the Holy One of God!”

25 Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be quiet, and come out of him!”

26 The unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him.

27 They were all amazed, so that they questioned among themselves, saying, “What is this? A new teaching? For with authority he commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him!”

28 The report of him went out immediately everywhere into all the region of Galilee and its surrounding area.

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus Christ, whose word is full of truth and authority, teach us to hear your voice with humble hearts. Deliver us from every power that opposes your kingdom, establish us in your truth, and make us faithful disciples who gladly obey your commands; for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.

Liturgical Letters

*Liturgical Letters* is a daily prayer letter following the rhythm of the Christian year. Each post includes Scripture, a psalm, a Scripture reading, and historic prayers.

By Andy Patton

Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Youtube.

Rendition

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.

Dive deeper into the Darkling Psalter with the Member Podcast.

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In this episode, we are continuing the series pairing psalms—two at a time, read back to back, each pair moving from dark toward light. This time we’ve got Psalm 22 and Psalm 23.

When Jesus quoted the first line Psalm 22 from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He wasn’t just reciting that line only but many scholars understand this as an example of metalepsis, in which the gospel writers are quoting one smaller bit of an Old Testament passage but it should be understood that the entire whole is being referenced. In this case, Psalm 22. That paints a slightly different picture of what it means that Jesus said this from the cross.

In quoting Psalm 22, he wasn’t announcing that God had left him. He was praying the entirety of a psalm he knew by heart. He was using the psalm in the way God’s people have always used the psalms: reciting their poetry in prayer to take heart and to cling to what is true beyond circumstances. Psalm 22 is not a psalm about abandonment, but it is a psalm about suffering. The rendition tries to walk that line. It asks: Why this ridicule? It is more than I can stand. It admits: I may have only one last trust left in me. Yet, it insists: You are here. Higher, holy, throned nonetheless, and there was never a moment when you were somewhere else.

Psalm 23 is both alike and different. Both unfold in the middle of danger, but here the Shepherd walks beside his people. The first begins with a cry of abandonment; the second answers it with the comfort of God’s presence. Even in the midst of danger, one asks, “Where are you?” while the other says, “You are right here.”

Psalm 23 takes place in the valley of the shadow. There are predators on the hills. The flock is menaced but the shepherd is at hand. He has not removed the danger but interposes himself between us and it. The rendition says it this way: Even when I wander at the violet hour. When wolf fears steal in to take a share and howl in the hills. When I meet the shadow falling between the way I wanted and the way I went — I will fear no evil. You are with me.

What these two psalms share is not rescue, but accompaniment. God does not clear the valley of every danger, nor swoop in before we suffer our crosses. He enters them. He walks with us. He hangs alongside us. That is what the cross means. And that is what both of these psalms, read together, are trying to say.

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Rendition

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.

Dive deeper into the Darkling Psalter with the Member Podcast.

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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.

Over the next several episodes of the members podcast, I’m pairing psalms—two at a time, read back to back. Each pair moves the same direction: from dark toward light. The darker psalm tells the truth about what it’s like when things have gone wrong… when God feels far away. When faith if threadbare. The more hopeful psalm of the pair speaks from somewhere further along on the journey. The consolation they offer isn’t the result of having dodged the suffering, but having gone through it.

My hope is that somewhere in these pairings you hear something that sounds like your own life. We’ll start with Psalms 6 and 30.

Psalm 6 lives entirely inside the darkness and doesn’t try to leave it. It tells the truth of a hard situation just like it is. It says: I haunt from room to room. I’m not going to make it. Why do fears fountain so full, but grace rises slowly, wears disguises? I think that last question is one of the most raw in the whole project. And the rendition doesn’t rush to answer it.

Psalm 30 is written from the other side—not immediately after the darkness, but eventually, by someone who remembers what it was like to be inside the hard season. It says: No night tears can stop the birds and bells of dawn singing every morning. And sorrow tills the soil where supple flowers grow. It reminds us that if God has been our help, to take up whatever song we have and sing it back to him.

Psalm 6 cannot imagine morning. Psalm 30 remembers that morning always came. This distance between those two realities can be large indeed, but there can be comfort in even finding language to name what is difficult, and to remind yourself, in the words of psalm 30 that “God is a harrow, but you can’t shake him. His love lasts the night and all life long.”

Read more

Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Youtube.

Rendition of Psalm 41

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. 

Dive deeper into the Darkling Psalter with the Member Podcast.

Members Podcast

If you would like to move this project one step closer to publication, sign up on this form to request the Darkling Psalter in print.

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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. 

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