THE CRY

Scarred this day by wounds that bleed
Bodies writhe
Speech becomes paralysis
No one can tell such agonies
Platitudes do not even act as plasters
No bandage can stem the blood flow
Pillows soaked with the unredeemed
Sickness
Becoming redeemed by suffering
And the bearing thereof
Alone such bearers dwell in darkness
Wondering when it will all end
Crying out to the God of Job
And Jesus too
“Where is my Father?”
In pure abandonment
The stakes are high
But who cares about stakes
When flesh falls from bones
And sinews ache
And bodies stiffen unto death?
In pure abandonment
The cry rises to Heaven
The answer is Silence