Psalm 57: 8
Awake up, my glory; awake psaltery and harp: I myself will awake early.
Think of David as he lies on the mountain
He looks at the night sky
Unending, unfathomable, unreachable
The diamond stars
The firmament that declares the glory of God
And he aches
His heart panting like the hart after the waterbrook
At his side are sword, spear and bow
His body is cut from oak, his skin like leather
His mind a blade itself, with razor’s edge
He breathes the open air and the day’s tension dissolves
He rests in the shadow of the wings of the Almighty
This man who killed the giant
And tens of thousands
Hears heaven’s choir and plays on his harp
Songs that soothe the savage breast of Saul
His poems are those very psalms
That have charmed and inspired
And he aches
At first light, at first rustling of dawn
He turns and shakes away sleep
Here is a new day
He rises, believing the promise
“Awake up, my glory”
What is his glory?
One more win in bloody combat?
Or is it that unknowable thing
That all men share with him
That desire beneath all desires
That lesser men have long since forgotten
And forfeited to the unrelenting fates
That lesser men are afraid to confess
Does David wake early
Expecting glory in bloodshed
Or does he crave
That his righteousness will shine like the dawn
And the justice of his cause like the noonday sun?
Does he crave that gift, that grace, that dispensation
That is his and his alone?
That unspeakable grace promised to him
When he first came to know himself?
Is the difference between him and me
That he believes it will happen
And maybe this very day
And so he wakes early
And takes in hand
Psaltery and harp