Psalm 92 — Still Green
A poem in anapestic tetrameter
When the wicked spring up like the grass overnight,
And they prosper in each evil thing that they do,
Oh God, won’t You bring all their malice to light?
Won’t You teach them that cruelty’s something to rue?
I sing praises, Most High, to Your Name every day;
You’ve exalted my strength like an ox, wild and free,
You’ve anointed my head with Your oil, and I pray
That You scatter the workers of iniquity.
Then the righteous shall flourish like trees of the field,
Giving fruit in due season, though agéd still green;
We’ll be healthy and joyful, heavy with yield,
For You are my land, You’re my rock; You’re my stream.
Esther learned to read when she was four years old, and began writing shortly thereafter. She is a queer Christian poet, crafting with words to create art and music.
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