JACQUELINE OSHEROW
from
Scattered Psalms
1.
(Handiwork/ Glory)
To
the Conductor: A song
if
David.
The
heavens declare the glory
if
Cod, the firmament tells His handiwork. Day on day utters speech,
night on night announces knowledge. There
is
no speech and there
are no words without hearing their voice. (Psalm
19: 1-4)
Dare I begin: a song of Jacqueline?
But what, from my heart of hearts, do I say?
Not that it matters, since every line
Will murmur wi th the heavens, sotto voce,
The knowledgeable night, the chatty day,
Their information constant, simultaneous:
The
glory
if
Cod
and then
His handiwork.
Indulge them: theirs is undiluted lyric
And we can't utter speech without its voice....
So how hard could it be to write a psalm?
Think of David's fairly modest territory,
There are other trees than cedar, willow, palm
(The handhIJork
if
Cod
and then
His glory),
So many kinds of praise he couldn't know:
The ferns on their unfinished violins,
The jonquils on their giddy, frail trombones,
The aspens shaking silver tambourines,
Then yellow-gold ones, then letting go.
What did David know about such changes?
The top arc of the spectrum gone berserk?
That when some skyward barricade unhinges
Without even a breath, a noise, a spark
(The glory oj Cod
and then
His handiwork),
No single earthly thing stays as it was,
Except insofar as it still sings.
Hand me an instrument of ten strings;
Everything was put on earth to praise.
The crocodile. The cheetah. Hallelujah.
The nightingale. The lynx. The albatross.
