Sometimes I can. Not today though..
Alas! The serious Psalm-writer knows: It doesn't come easy. The lament beats louder in your head as it always does, like an abandoned building with a broken down piano. The cacophonous quiet is eerily deafening.
Once what was orchestral and agreeable becomes dissonant and unmusical.
I'd like to sit at your bench, but it's in pieces on the floor.
I'd like to play your keyboard, but there's no ivory anymore.
The strings are stripped
and stretched beyond repair
Where once I wrote a symphony
My heartstrings write despair...
(The Psalm-writer nudges)
"Sit right down, my sister.
Sit down with Me on the floor.
I was stripped and stretched beyond repair
For you - many years before.
Quit searching for a sonnet, or a chorus of release
Be the voice of one awakened to
The joy of the Master-peace."
©2012 Sue Duffield/DuffieldMusicGroup
Where is the discord in your life today? Who is it you're listening to? Who are you writing for? What has silenced you?
