At night upon the bed, when we reflect
each other face to face, and too inspect
the texture and the contours of the each,
and try to stay close by, within a reach.
And even when one's tired and sleepy still
somehow, when woken by a body's will,
which would quite woodenly return to sleep,
the mem'ry of the beauty seems to keep
the mind imagining, attending to
the kind of things we love, just me and you,
and just some shared attention seems to be
enough to keep me going with less sleep.
And I am caught by simple things that fit
quit snuggly but allow some movement yet,
and puzzle pieces fitting into place
when we work there together in that space,
that somehow you have crafted now for us
and I see that you help me not to fuss
with implements, and others' comment'ry
on what they thought of you, or think of me.
And sometimes, just the way smart things are set,
reminders come: "It's time to go to bed."
And I just smile, for here we are, and I
could hardly be more happy if I tried.
And yet that hasn't ever been my goal,
I know that my "desires" don't unfold
until, responding to your gentle touch
I'm following your whispered word THAT much.
O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory. Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you. So I will bless you as long as I live; I will lift up my hands and call on your name. My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast, and my mouth praises you with joyful lips when I think of you on my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. (NRSV-CI) Ps 63:1-8
As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, “Where is your God?” These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival. Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts; all your waves and your billows have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me continually, “Where is your God?” Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.
(NRSV-CI) Ps 42:1-5, 7-8, 10-11
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