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I love you, Lord, my strength, * My rock, my fortress, my savior.

Of course, I’d love to love you, Lord
but I lay myself bare before you, empty
of love, of emotion, of motive

Look with mercy on your servant
I hurtled through the psalms today unheedful
of words I’ve read before, words I got wrong
not for the first time, hurrying along

Just to be surprised by Augustine
and then that warning, beware
of those claiming, “I am he”
because? Well, they aren’t, are they?

Have mercy on your unloving servants
and me a minor sinner in a cold dark morning.