The indecision builds
while staring into the velvet covered bible
and knowing that you have already
read more than was necessary.
Yet you stand and read on and on
hoping that one small word
will shine into the dark crevices
separating you from reality’s warm embrace.
Scoring your wrist you watch the small trickle of blood now pooling
where it lands inside a knitted loop of the bric a brac doily
on the roll top desk.
You wince slightly as you press the blade little deeper,
and jump just enough for the holy book to fall
and slide down the silk backing on the Queen Ann's chair
to land open on the floor.
A spot of blood calls attention to the number 139.
Surely you hallucinate as the eerie blue iridescence
emanating from the still open bible seems
to warmly creep around your feet.
“Such strange warmth”, you think, as it permeates
your socks against the cold wooden floor.
“I haven’t lost that much blood”, you think
wondering why the sudden loss of breath
and the need to sit down.
The blackness forces you to the floor
and a single word catches your eye.
—the last word on the bible’s page.
“Everlasting is a long time you think” as your eyes
leave the single word at the bottom of the page.
Moving to the top again you see Psalm 139.
“I remember them you think. Psalms, --King David.”
Reading the book later, you will realize
the words on this day were different
“Dear one, I have searched you and I know you.
I know when you sit and when you rise,
I perceive your thoughts from afar”
Before you speak a word I know what you are going to say.
-----such knowledge is too wonderful for you,
too lofty for you to understand.
Where can you hide from my spirit. Where can you flee from me?
If you go to the heavens, if you go to the depths, if you rise on the wings
of the dawn and settle on the far side of the sea,
even there my hand will guide you.
Pulling the pillow case from the bed behind.
you bind your wrist to stop the slight flow of blood.
Feeling the strength of passion spurring in divine presence
you continue this life event with a hunger never before felt.
“Oh God, please don’t let me die,” you pray.
“For you created my inmost being, you knit me in my mother’s womb.
----I am fearfully and wonderfully made and was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven you saw my
unformed body and my days were written in your book
before I ever came to be.”
Hanging your head and thanking God again and again,
you will realize later that the prayer you prayed was exactly
the same as the last part of King David’s prayer in Psalm !39.
You will marvel over that for all the many years
of your life remaining.
And afterwards all the seed of all your seed for 139 generations
will receive a framed story telling of the life event,
preserving your miracle of the bible in the hands of God.
© cghjr Nov.9.2012
It is against my nature to copy selective verse from the bible and
put it into a poem to make the poem coherent. However, I feel the
message in the part of psalm 139 which I am using is a powerful one
and is a voice I can spread without offending anyone. Non believers
just dismiss it as fiction and believers will say “beautiful”