Thursday, November 02, 2006
New Psalms 3: Feeding The Lion
Written in contrition after derailing a group conversation with an angry explosion.
Pride has consumed me.
A great lion tosses his royal mane.
I open my mouth
All that comes out is a roar.
Shy people cower.
Kind people shake their heads.
Other proud lions intensify the brawl.
Agreeing, we stand side by side.
Our declaration blasts the rafters
Scatters paper and dialogue to the floor.
Disagreeing, we stand face to face.
Blasting each other.
Hair streams out from our heads.
Veins pop in crimson faces.
Heat in shock waves fills the room.
We finish satisfied
Others leave frustrated
You do not hear these lions.
You do not see these lions.
When my longing turns to You
I stop feeding the lion.
He sleeps and You speak:
© 2006 R. Elena Tabachnick