A Homemade Psalm

Oh God, an owl in the night calls out over and again…
     “who…who-who … are you?”

Dawn awakens the winter trees’ long bony fingers, scratching at the
     clouds…” tell us…tell us… where are you, God?”

In the twilight, I sit like a sphinx on the dry dusty floor…
     waiting…thirsting for you , my God?

To lead me down the velvet, black-satin tunnel of my mind,
     searching, searching for you…

And I rest like an old oak tree,
     bent…leaning to one side over the river of eternity…
          under me, around me, over me, and in me

Waiting to fall into your magnetic arms
     attracting, drawing, pulling, embracing my soul
          in your love, by your love, for your love

And thou, shadow life of my being, image within, breath of my existence,
     I surrender into your hands…

As the psalmist said ” like a weaned child on its’ mother’s breast, so my
     soul rests on you, my God”.


Earl Lowen,
Lexington, MI