The Psalmist Visits Ontario in October by Mirjana Villeneuve Perhaps it’s not fair to say the trees fall to pieces though this is clearly the case. Rather, it seems, having been filled with the honey-thick sun and convicted of their goodness they lay their broad hands down. Without reserve they release all that is not theirs to keep. Their old bodies bend and groan. In longing they are strengthened; under fall of night and sting of frost they do not doubt. Though I, trembling, have wept again upon the broad-shouldered darkness this morning creation is aflame with self-gift. With the love you spoke of to me and speak of still. You’ve made your dwelling within the cathedral of trees; at the sound of your voice the stained-glass canopy shatters. If I must break apart let it be without fear. If I must again fall in and out of myself, hope, o my soul; the day draws near when with courage you will call this body home.
Mirjana Villeneuve is a writer and High School English teacher in Ottawa. Her work has appeared online and in print in Presence Journal, Prism Journal, the Lake Effect 9 Anthology (Upstart Press, 2019), Restoration, and The Catholic Millennial.
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Beautiful imagery: "honey-thick sun," "stained glass canopy shatters," "broad-shouldered darkness." This weekend, I wrote a poem about the fire of God's presence and likened it to the way the slanted sun seems more visceral this time of year: "sunlight thick and roped like honey." I was struck seeing such a similar line in your psalm. I deeply love the line "If I must break apart/ let it be without fear." Amen. I am going to copy this one down in my commonplace. Thank you, Mirjana!
So lovely!