with my bible and the Book of Chords
I hunker down to write new psalms

praise to the unfailing mountains,
the rocks, the fortress, the deliverer

the chords of death encompass me
as I reel and rock these nights away

the brightness of the day turns dark
in a rain of guided arrows

I brace my body against the stone
reaching up, no rope just hope to guide me

a mere piton slip away from the fall

and we are rewarded
according to the cleanness of our hands

blameless and righteous
for real, humble
for whom is a rock

Chagall 2020