Tag Archives: David Rosenberg

What the Trees Said – Origins


Know your roots.
Pull up a few.
See those sallow
rangy threads
sinewy cords
thick as your arm
splintering stone
slurping up existence quenching


I am tangled up in heritage and ancestor – those tough ties to blood, tribe, family, and gene – running through scripture and ancient traditions like twisting roots.

Long scattered to dust, hidden, yet flowing through our veins,
tenacious forebears animate our lives. I can hear them, stocks of gnarled and tangled cheerleaders, waving stringy fingers, scrabbling, murmuring

Stop slouching and grow for pity’s sake!


Do you know where you came from and who is still feeding your soul?

After writing this post I came across this passage from Isaiah, translated poetically by David Rosenberg, author of the masterful, A Poet’s Bible, Rediscovering the Voices of the Original Text.

I brought up children
held them in my presence
and they turn from me

deaf and blind
when even the dumb ox knows
who holds his food

an ass
the trough
the master fills

but Israel knows nothing
of its root in me
sees nothing of where

they come from . . .

Isaiah Chapter 1, Translation by David Rosenberg

Stepping Back from the Glib Café

I have been dining at the glib café too frequently.    I have been listening to too many bitter, angry, paper-hearted ones, locked in their own glare. I am turning from the table of TV dinners of MSNBC, CNN, and POX News – that alphabet soup of garish headlines,  cynicism, blame, and eternally breaking bad news.

Instead, I am taking in the words of scripture. Poet and scholar, David Rosenberg  exposes anew the dive of imposters, held captive in their own minds. His translation of  Psalm 1 feeds me with the truth of the word of the infinite.

Psalm 1

Happy the one
stepping lightly over
the hearts of men

and out of the way
of mind-locked reality
the masks of sincerity

he steps from his place at the glib café
to find himself in the word
of the infinite

embracing it
in his mind
with his heart

parting his lips for it
day into night

transported like a tree
to a riverbank
sweet with fruit in time

his heart unselfish
whatever he does

while bitter men turn dry
blowing in the wind like yesterday’s paper

unable to stand in the gathering

they fall
faded masks
in love’s spotlight

burning hearts of paper
locked in their own glare

but my Lord opens
his loving one
to breathe embracing air

David Rosenberg, A Poet’s Bible

Oh won’t you meet me there for dinner in that living word
and embracing air?

Shall we together part our lips lightly for this feast?