They may be humanity’s best friends but even dogs can turn feral and roam the nights of our nightmares. Today’s poem emerges out of yet another crisis in the life of David - one of the lowest points of his career. The way he describes it - he was thrown to the dogs by the people he trusted most.
Psalm 59 is introduced as written in response to the story told in detail in Samuel I: After a meteoric rise in King Saul’s court, David’s star begins to shine too bright and the king’s jealous rage takes over. In the middle of the night David has to flee, assisted by his wife, Princess Michal - his rival’s daughter. This will be one of the dark nights of his life - finding himself chased by soldiers, all on his own.
This psalm rises from his despair, a howl of pain, and with it - wild dogs.
They show up twice in the poem, with precisely seven verses between the two times that the exact same verse is mentioned. The symmetry is in contrast to the wildness. The wild dogs are David’s pursuing enemies, and in his poetry they circle the city, hungry and howling, terrifying the few who hear or see them in the night:
יָשׁ֣וּבוּ לָ֭עֶרֶב יֶהֱמ֥וּ כַכָּ֗לֶב וִיס֥וֹבְבוּ עִֽיר׃
They come each evening growling like dogs, roaming the city.
הִנֵּ֤ה ׀ יַבִּ֘יע֤וּן בְּפִיהֶ֗ם חֲ֭רָבוֹת בְּשִׂפְתֽוֹתֵיהֶ֑ם כִּי־מִ֥י שֹׁמֵֽעַ׃
They rave with their mouths, sharp words are on their lips; they think,“Who even hears?”
Ps. 59:7-8
The fear and the chaos can be heard between the lines, as these dogs bark, howl and the lips of those pursuing the poet seem like swords. None will hear their howls or his anguish.
In response to David’s howling dogs I want to echo another poem in which dogs are not the villains but the holders of yearning and hope, also traveling the night in search of solace.
Enjoy Rumi’s poem love dogs, translated by Coleman Barks:
One night a man was crying Allah! Allah!
His lips grew sweet with praising,
until a cynic said, “So!
I’ve heard you calling out, but have you ever
gotten any response?”
The man had no answer to that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.
He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,
in a thick, green foliage.
“Why did you stop praising?” “Because
I’ve never heard anything back.”
“This longing you express
is the return message.”
The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.
Your pure sadness
that wants help
is the secret cup.
Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.
There are love dogs
no one knows the names of.
Give your life
to be one of them.
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