My Psalm

woman in black shirt sitting on grass during sunset
Photo by Douglas Gianini on

How long?
How many more days do I have to cry bitterly
asking you how long?

My heart is sick
my hope is deferred
my heart hopes
for what I can’t conjure.

How long must I try to find a quiet
place to get away from the constant
strain of this yoke pulling me one way
when I’m trying to follow you another?

I am your lily among thorns
torn and worn
for a place that doesn’t hurt.

How long?
How long do I have to wait
for him my love to requite?

What if it’s eighty years?
What if it’s tomorrow?
What if I die in this sorrow?

Only one I know
that can make love
out of death grow.
And that’s you Lord
Nail scarred, hands and feet,
standing in the strength of
death’s defeat- My Lord!

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