Day 9, Poem 9 - Arouca Presbyterian Church - the First Psalm
Arouca Presbyterian Church - the first Psalm
The song rose first from the gut of the morning
all the way to the rafters of noon - song of praise;
song of protection, the congregants bugled the tiny
church aloft. Some said it was the only way the building
stayed steady, betrayed its crumbling plaster and termite
ridden beams. The reverends’ job was easy in the countenance
of such faith. Wade in the water of the peoples’ song. Offer
the prayers of the elders and the children. Preach the sum
of the village gossip and the nicknames of local legends.
Enough lived there in the valley out of which to make music
to God. All they’d need was a preacher with a dance in his
voice; a child without shame, to sing in Jesus’ name.
The song rose first from the gut of the morning
all the way to the rafters of noon - song of praise;
song of protection, the congregants bugled the tiny
church aloft. Some said it was the only way the building
stayed steady, betrayed its crumbling plaster and termite
ridden beams. The reverends’ job was easy in the countenance
of such faith. Wade in the water of the peoples’ song. Offer
the prayers of the elders and the children. Preach the sum
of the village gossip and the nicknames of local legends.
Enough lived there in the valley out of which to make music
to God. All they’d need was a preacher with a dance in his
voice; a child without shame, to sing in Jesus’ name.