Psalm 23

Write me an elegy of a quiet place,
that feels like sun-warmed grass, or ankle deep
clear still water. A place filled
with early mornings,
still blurred at the edges. An elegy

for darkness, when the clouds crowd in
the valley in my chest. When there is not enough
room for breath or heart beats, sing to me
this elegy. Then build in me a table,
so I can dine with doubt and fear
and know that I can face them with you
singing words that fill me until I overflow.

I'll memorize this elegy, so I will know
how to find Your home, a place where there is
nothing left to want.