A Psalm of Joy

By Marshall Cunningham

Don’t you taste

the thanksgiving tingle like honey and trumpet from your mouth like a song? Breathe in, breathe out, and feel the weight thrown from your ribs and thorn plucked like a rose from your heart. It will bleed like the tears that cling close to your mother’s cheek as she holds her baby who finally journeyed home. Even in the tempest will it last, even in the bursting blister of the gale, even when you can’t run or walk or stand upon the shake of these shifting lands. For to rejoice is to turn the pages of an endless book, one whose glory and story will last forever and always. Rejoice, therefore, and therefore, rejoice.