In class this we we were learning about psalms, and our teacher decided to have us write our own psalm.
My psalm is a psalm of Lament
Still.
Silent.
Not the anticipatory silence of expectation.
Not the sharp intake of breath as you wait for birth.
The long, drawn out silence of an impending disaster.
The silence of loss and loneliness,
An all encompassing, ever expanding, spance of darkness.
And I seek,
And I search.
My voice cracking in the desperation of a mother searching for a lost child.
Hoping but never finding,
Listening but never hearing.
Famished and fading, reaching out for the grasp of your hand.
And I wait.
Still,
and silent.
Waiting for you to sweep in.
Waiting for you to revive,
Reawaken.
And in my longing and loss, I choose to remember.
With hope I cling desperately to those moments.
Moments of intimacy and joy,
Moments of tears and pain and healing.
I choose to remember your voice.
A voice singing softly through the wind in the trees.
A voice roaring victoriously in the crashing waves.
A voice calling me deeper, leading me further.
I choose to remember your consistency.
That you are the same yesterday.
Today.
And Tomorrow.
You never leave me, you will never forsake me.
For you are still.
But you are never really silent.
And so I choose to remember how to listen.
