Raise High Your Gates O Jerusalem
The First Song, Psalm 24 7/30/22 Today I sing of construction and death Of making and taking away. I once heard some angels sing In plain chant “O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors.” I sat behind the screen, not allowed To see cloistered nuns’ bodies, not even wimples. I could not gaze into their eyes, And had to content myself with A soft song of return to the City of God. This as close as I was allowed to venture. My carpenter called to say My doors would have to wait a day. The father of one of the workers died last night And he, a pandit, had to attend to the rituals of death. . I love Sushil. He works well. His eye is true. His lines are straight and plumb. His doors close and latch. Jerusalem is no more holy than my Indian Jogiwara. The nuns who sang so sweetly believe theirs was the City of God. Though I never trusted Augustine, I almost did When I heard their soft cry to the Lord. May they sing for Sushil today as he ligh...