Psalm 6—I haunt from room to room. People pat me on the shoulder and don’t know what to say.

The Darkling Psalter is Back

The Darkling Psalter is waking up from its three-month fallow period. I’m—let’s see… (checks Scrivener)—five psalms away from completing volume 1 (Psalms 1-50). I’ll be releasing those here as they are written.

I’ll also be releasing new episodes of the Darkling Psalter Podcast (Spotify, Apple, YouTube, or you can listen in the Substack app). Paid subscribers get 100% of those episodes. Free subscribers get 50% of them.

As always, if you want ALL of these episodes but can’t become a paid subscriber, just email me at andymatthewpatton@gmail.com and I’ll comp you a paid subscription—no worries. (It’ll help me pay back my bad karma for all the TV shows I’ve pirated.)

For Paid Subscribers

Thank you for your support of the Darkling Psalter! Paid subscribers make this project sustainable for me.

This post is free for everyone, but, in the future, only every other podcast episode will be free.

Now, without further ado…

Rendition of Psalm 6

Don’t press me any harder.
I am scraped low, slung out, 
And strung hard between bitten hours
And bent, bated minutes.
I haunt from room to room.
People pat me on the shoulder
And don’t know what to say.
How long will this last?
I’m not going to make it.

But if you love me, save me. 
Stop me. Carry me. Rattle me down 
And meet me on the long way round.
No one will remember you in the dust of death.
And don’t you want my praises?
Didn’t you want to glory inside me?
Why did you let this ruin root itself
And gnash me to bone?

If I had sails, I could ride my bed
On the water of my tears.
All my thoughts are salted white
And grief runs in me like a floodtide.

Why do fears fountain so full, but grace
Rises slowly, wears disguises,
And turns on such small hinges?
God, heave to heaven and throw me over.
Take my prayers to your chest. 
Send me peace in volleys.
Fold my troubles in on themselves
And leave me standing.

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Photo by boris misevic on Unsplash