She asked us to lament.
Lie down on the floor
weep, wail, wring our hands
learn suffering’s sound.
Unsure of this teacher
permitting us grief
we tentative students
persisted at blind happiness.
O! To reclaim that
blessed invitation.
Now my cry,
“my God, my God,
why have you forsaken us?”
would swallow the silence,
Subdue the void
left by that absence.
I would give heartbreak its voice,
sing agony’s crooked tune.
I would gnash my teeth
fashion sack cloth
drench my head in ashes.
If remorse could
stop Death from cradling
babies in his unrelenting arms,
if sorrow could melt
weapons like wax;
repentance dry the eyes
of every parent
of every child lost,
no sense, nor reason,
then I proclaim my remorse.
Shout apologies to the heavens.
I turn back, turn around,
change direction,
heed the prophet’s call.
Only Comforter, speak comfort.
Cry hope.
Soften stony hearts.
Reshape new from old, living from dying.
Teach us life, teach us love.
My God, my God, hear our lament.
