Evening Fly guys and gals!! So here is the poem that a really dear friend and writer wrote for me, about me… Y’all know what I’m saying. Lol. If I get 5, just 5, comments about what they think it’s about it mean then I will follow up with my initial reaction when I read it and what Cedric Tillman, my friend who wrote it, explained. Hope y’all all enjoy!
When you are troubled
I am called to restore you,
to calm you at your bedside
with the music of my harp.
I am from the country
I tend to the flocks
So city and cavalier
Surrounded by your subjects
In the city of our God
But I have learned your spirits,
Tried to negotiate them
I have learned to love your nuances
I know now when you go ahead
And when you would have me wait
I know what to play
And when you would have me to leave.
I might have know you were haunted
There is malice when you curse,
You scare me with your spear
I fear for my life,
I can never know what may cause it
to hasten in my direction,
What in your life beyond me
But I am fated to be there,
Preferring the Spirit’s few idle moments-
The days you embrace me like a son,
Or compliment me when I play.
Many times when you were angry
I nearly fled
Sometimes I hear people say you have forgotten your anointing
They murmur about how the kingdom has changed you and wish you were your younger self again
They know you have dealt roughly with me and tell me to defend myself
Yet I will not touch you
to do you harm
Lately you are always nervous –
I play through your paranoia
After a day in the battle
The flowing attack
The ebbing to retreat
You come in and put your spear by the bed
Then I come in,
to my accustomed place
I dare not approach where you lie
I play my psalm prepared for just such a moment
Praying that you are moved by your gentler Spirit,
By these strings that run lengthways,
like your body over the bed
And I seal the chamber so there is more solitude.
I have thought of what might soothe you
I play a quiet, mournful song
Turn the sand upon it’s side
to make it seem the time was static,
Searching you in my mind as I play,
wondering what makes you tense with me,
why you make me a favorite
only to suddenly act the philistine,
why you rage against our destinies
I whisper a question about the fight
hoping you will share that you will feel shriven as if I am your personal Levite.
When you call me closer,
I always act as if
I did not hear you the first time.
You beckon again
and though I am afraid,
I wonder what would happen
if you could hear my music clearer.
But I cannot trust you.
Your hand wearily dangles
too close to the spear
So I watch you as I approach,
and even though your eyes are closed
I slide the spear away
So that I am between it and you.
3 thoughts on “Your David, My Saul”
Oh the feels! I read this stuff nowadays and think “who was that kid?” Wrote the original version 25 years ago (this one’s a better, slimmer version from my book). We old sis! Thanks for the years of friendship-and for the inspiration.
(Shameless plug-here’s my Goodreads page w/info on me and my books.)
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Mr. Tillman you have always been a dear and cherished friend! Thanks for allowing me to share this beautiful poem. I miss the Sharon Luggage days when life was easier, lol. You are my inspiration… Strong educated Black man that takes care of his family and supports his friend endeavors! Love ya.
So kind of you to say-thank you. And yes, those were crazy days! We looked our for each other in different ways-will never forget those times! Living almost walking distance from Eastland now, I think of them everytime I pass. Love you too!
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