Psalm 8 Revisited

by Larry Bolding

O Lord,

Sometimes you make my feel like a tree.

My arms reach up to the sky, but I can’t touch the tip of my Father’s

   robe.

In the distance I see the stream of light filled with your holy

   Presence, yet my roots cannot feed on the full richness of its waters.

I want to pull up my roots and meet you in the Heavenly Realms,

   but my roots are too tightly attached. I can’t break the tie that

       binds me.

And I ask, “Is it to be this way till I die?” I endure freezing cold and

   times of darkness, waiting for a glimmer of the light that might

       have come from the Promised Place.

I wait for a drop of rain that might have dripped from that Holy

    Place.

I rejoice in the warmth of your Light and a drink of the moisture provided by your mighty hand.

I offer the fruit of my existence here in the same tone of love

    you have shown me.

I find joy in being an extension of my Lord’s hand.

With your help, O Lord, I will remain your faithful servant, never

     giving up on my vision, even if I must wait until that promised day

         when all dim visions become clear.

In His name, Amen.