Psalm of a Tangled Time (no. 1?)
Everybody liked Saul until they didn’t anymore,
when he was old and life hadn’t gone they way he thought it would
but not as bad as his visions which he told to no one
because they didn’t make sense:
A farmer sowing sometimes on hard rock or tossing to the wind
to be eaten by birds; or seeds that sometimes grew
into a vast tree surrounded by a river
of blood soaking into every land like wine spilling from a cup.
The tree sighing in the wind with longing for a gardener.
So hauntingly beautiful that tree’s song
even if the roots were red. He kept falling into visions
until people stopped listening because they couldn’t hear
Saul thought a kingdom would keep them safe
even the people he didn’t know,
or the ones he didn’t like, but especially his children,
even those who loved his adopted son,
that one who made some tragic mistakes,
the one who also seemed haunted by visions
and words that seem to fly out of his mouth
and into the future.