Broken Psalm

Let us praise God from the earth up, and all that our Maker moulded from it!
Bog-encrusted toenails, you journeyed through a pilgrimage—praise Him!
Muscle and sinew, you knew too many hours lifting and scrubbing and dancing—praise Him!
Flesh flaked with sea salt, cry out thanks in your pouring sweat!
O my mouth, shouting joy and lament—remember the God who will not desert you!

Do not despair, burning eyes! You will know again the Son of Man descending in rain-heavy cloud and frenzied wind.
Emmanuel shall walk with you through excrement and iris stalk, shall be among you on that mountaintop, weeping with your very eyes when you know you must descend from that height.
Take courage when the darkness closes in, my aching heart! The light is not far off now, when there shall be no more night, when God’s own fingers will brush away your tears. This bloodied body, wrenched member from member, will be washed clean and knit together again, your wounds kissed and salved with steady hands.

O my shattered voice, sob out your grateful song, echoing off the ancient stones to the high crosses!
Battered knees, find your hobbled dance among the mourners and revelers—the bagpipe, the tin whistle call to you!
O my mouth, laugh again with these hundreds of voices, and know love once more!
O you who are broken, bless the LORD, who was and is and is to come!