All That is Within Me

When the dog bites and the bee stings, thinking

of my fav'rite things will only go so far. There are
trials and tribulations every day, every day, and
I get tired, but listen well,  I'm not defeated.
Are you listening, Satan? Can you hear me there
in hell? I know you're hovering and jacking off
to my despair, or just because I'm no one special
more likely you've dispensed some demon of detritus,
whiny minion with foul breath that's been assigned to me
and all my kin  from eons past who knows exactly how
and when to push the buttons that will be the worst for us
and does and does and does until we think
we just can't take it any more. We can, you loathsome
whore, you spawn of what is wicked and putrescent.
Come a little closer and you'll hear me roar the
song of the redeemed, the song that makes your
belly ache and sends you screeching with a hiss:

BLESS THE LORD, OH MY SOUL, AND ALL THAT
IS WITHIN ME, BLESS HIS HOLY NAME.

How 'you like them apples, troll of hell?
Whatever you send here, WHATEVER, that is the
return for all your trouble. Try to stop me.
Want me praising all the more? Send it, you
decrepit coward. Defeated foe. Eternal fuck-up.
a third of all the host of heaven sits with you,
united in your corner, under your control.
I've got the rest in mine, or rather, I'm in theirs.
Do the math, you fiend of wrath. Your time
is short and you will find that even if you try
your best to steal my hope, my joy,
I'll only sing the louder:

BLESS THE LORD.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013


Years ago, a Scottish evangelist named John Hamilton visited Fort Pierce. My husband and I eventually traveled with him and his wife and another couple to India for a few weeks, which then led us to go on the mission field for a time.  John told a story of being at his worst and calling for the demons of hell to come closer so that he could blast them with those words from Psalm 103. If he ever reads this, I hope he will be pleased, rather than offended.