something like a psalm

this god is more than i can
stand, handled sea, bucket sun,
a northern flash of lightning
striking sand and trees.
i assumed my strength with
a flourish and am dashed
like a wave on the rocks, like
rain on the forests.
who turns their head to
the weak? who takes notice
of the disgraced, the humbled,
the defeated? who remembers
my place once i am gone? i am
a stranger to those close to me,
now far afield and worn-
a phantom to those i love.
clouds chase me from above;
out of the snowstorm speaks
my gospel. i drink my own tears
and the sun hides it’s face in shame,
the spring turns away from me;
i am buried in darkness
as the earth is tombed in ice.
who can speak the
language of the grave?
will you forget me forever?
my steps are short,
driven against the wind
up the mountain of
peace, the zion hill
reserved for the weak
and the weary, the faithless
and the wanderers. look
on me with mercy. i
am ended on my knees.