Psalm of Lament
My Friend, my Friend, Why have you allowed them to hate me, Why can’t you stop the discrimination, the bashing, the misogyny, and homophobia? I have called to You, but You remain silent, You do not answer. You are supposed to be the all powerful One. Many of my ancestors trusted You, And You delivered them. They cried to You, and You responded, They were freed. But are You listening now? I am considered deserving of being attacked, And being left to die in an alley, Despised by the pious, they mock me. They gossip about me; they raise their eyebrows. The Inquisitors prepare a case against me. The ‘faithful’ are suspicious. By intimidation they try to trick me, and take away my civil liberties. My soul is anxious. I am worried and alone. My tongue is dry. My chest is tight. My body shivers in fear. Yet it was You who created me. When I was a child You showed me the simple mysteries in nature. Since infancy, You have been my God. Do not leave me now to die in loneliness and addiction, Now in old age I need You. You, O Lord, do not be long in coming. Do not put me on hold, or voice mail. Forget the technology, I’m tired of inanimate e-mail. Do not be a fair weather friend, Gone when the winter wind whistles cold. Save me from authoritarian legalists and religious technologists. Protect me from the orthodox police. Hear my anger as well as my love, Dear Lord. Hold me in my suffering, And the many deaths I have experienced. From the narrow and self-righteous, You save me. I will tell the others of your goodness to me. Showing me unmasked love in the dying. Or those of us who have lost friends to AIDS. You do not ignore or feel embarrassed by us. But You remember Your love and compassion. When I cried to You, You heard. All the people shall know of your compassion. And You shall be made known Through the lives You touch in love. Through the witness of those Whose hard hearts You have softened. Before You, all will pay respect and offer praise. May the sound of quiet wind, The silent tear falling on the cheek, The young Chechnayan refugee, Bring Your name to their minds, As they wonder at the mystery of the one who is gone, And the one who is left alive, And they know in their hard consolation, They are fully alive. Because there is more than what we can see, And hear, And smell, And taste, And touch, And that mystery is You.