The Darkling Psalter
The Darkling Psalter Podcast
Psalm 42—I say to my soul, sing! Lift aloft. None of this is what it seems.
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Psalm 42—I say to my soul, sing! Lift aloft. None of this is what it seems.

Lord, where are you?

Where is your river I wanted?

My soul’s throat drinks 

Salt tears and clicks shut.

What is the count of days until

I stand before you in the flesh? 

Everyone laughs at the holes in my needs 

Where my God should be.

But I remember when I walked 

With the throng to your house.

We kept faith, kept festival.

We made our songs sails 

And your invisible wind 

Filled them for all to see.

I say to my soul, sing! Lift aloft.

None of this is what it seems.

But the words don’t work.

At night, there is the silence

And the long longing. My God,

My abysses all meet and merge. 

I wanted water, but you were flood.

Your breakers swept stormwise 

And I was overthrown.

But even the deep is yours.

Your love still rushes out

On the lines you gave it. 

I know the song is real

Because I can even hear it here.

In the dark, there is not much 

Space dividing faith and need, 

So I slip my prayers in the cracks 

Between the times you never showed up,

And the times you lifted me,

And set me home with you 

Where the flood never touched.

Why should I mourn 

If my adversaries are unconvinced

By a God who would let this happen?

Many things need more than time. 

So, sing. Stand again.

Brace yourself. Hope in God. 

Pant and praise and wait.

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