Psalm 139 Revisited
for my mother
Search me not, for dust is what you’ll find.
Divinely-made, but dust remains, from what
An image once contained in flesh and blood.
Search me some, for likeness fair – a face
To nameless fear – still stays inside.
A place to hide abides within, amid
The Me, the small-fall character once full,
Rife with life and love and piety.
So look a little and when You see,
Look, see, not specks of worthless dirt
But grasping hands, to apprehend a breeze
To liven dust: revitalizing grace.
………And find, not ore or dross to be refined,
………But something rare:…..a soul laid bare
To mother-love, who hearing words
Of harsh complaint and spiteful sound
Applies her poultice, mercy, to my wound.
