I am no singer
My voice is rough-hewn
Cut from untrained ears
Practitioner of nill
This voice deep of wood
Found a song to sing
Soothing the young and hard
They from dark circumstance
Tears like embered ash
Fall and sizzle on cheeks
Clenched teeth and red-faced
The oil from pressed homes
With my voice I scold
With my voice I sooth
With my voice I correct
With my voice I love
Strong arms lift pressure
Mill-stones of blood sin
Deep loving safe coos
You are loved sweet child
In my sin I feel
Hero like strength, will
My deep song is loud
My wooden voice proud
What fills my marrow
What animates me
Am I the hero
Am I the savior
It is Christ in me
God’s strength fills marrow
His breath fills lungs
Christ’s words the song
Without my savior
I would be crushed to
Under the millstone
The oil from pressed homes
Sing into the dark
