Unto Thee, O Lord, Have I Made My Supplication

Obi Martin

Song like song that is song,
bright as world’s-birth, but widening,
Shattering, out of equilibrium of nothing,
out of balance, out of essence, cries existence,
screaming joy, a pleading to be born and be,
your voice, it now reminds me
of the day the morning stars rejoiced.

Your voice lights up the space
and firmament within my little room below the sky,
aching my heart slow like snowdrops melting upon glass.
Still, but strong and sure and insurmountable,
like redemption swallowing doomsday
up completely, from the blackened scowling
bottom to the scowling blackened top.

Then revelation, and epiphany on Patmos;
cracking skylights bleached by years of searching sunlight
now give way and burst like broken crystal chandeliers
engaged with unsheathed swords of lightning.
Song of reconnection’s climax, worlds merging into one.
Now your song comes down, and animates the breath and morph
of each and us and every wiggling caterpillar.

Some words from the poet:

This poem is essentially freestyle, and demonstrates that freestyle poetry need not be unhinged from meaningful or important subjects. I’ve considered several different titles for this poem, though all perhaps nearly equally unwieldy. One of these was “The Three Stages of Redemption: Creation, Regeneration, and Recreation.” These stages correspond to the three stanzas or line-groups of the poem. Our Lord’s voice creates, convicts and redeems, and re-creates into union. The current title expresses our complete dependency upon our Lord for any meaning or progress in these three areas.

Obi_ProfileObi Martin’s values of vitality and expression inform and influence his interests and use of language and literature.

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