A David Psalm

1 Listen and help, O God.

I’m reduced to a whine

And a whimper, obsessed

with feelings of doomsday.

2-6 Don’t let them find me—

the conspirators out to get me,

Using their tongues as weapons,

flinging poison words,

poison-tipped arrow-words.

They shoot from ambush,

shoot without warning,

not caring who they hit.

They keep fit doing calisthenics

of evil purpose,

They keep lists of the traps

they’ve secretly set.

They say to each other,

“No one can catch us,

no one can detect our perfect crime.”

The Detective detects the mystery

in the dark of the cellar heart.

7-8 The God of the Arrow shoots!

They double up in pain,

Fall flat on their faces

in full view of the grinning crowd.

9-10 Everyone sees it. God’s

work is the talk of the town.

Be glad, good people! Fly toGod!

Good-hearted people, make praise your habit.

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/PSA/64-4a432e107400e81511965f2139b684ec.mp3?version_id=97—