Psalm for Syrians

Hear my cry Lord- be the God who is there, involved, close by.
I see the light, yet all is dark.
I sing praises from a deafened heart; I am my own worst enemy.
In the land of blessing, hunger overtakes me- feed me, or I will starve.
Crush my medicine in honey Lord, so I cannot taste it’s bitterness.

Even as I say ‘praise the Lord’, I ask ‘where is this lord?’
How can that which is not be sought?

Where were you Lord, when the children died?
Who was supposed to protect them?
Did you hear the cry of the afflicted and turn away?

I, Lord, have done wrong and am blessed.
They, Lord, have done nothing and their very life is stolen from them.
Innocents slaughtered…

You are my obsession.
I wake in the morning with thoughts of you.
In the night I have heard your voice,
Yet the day takes you away- events conspire to prove you do not care.
People wretched and yet not seeking you.
People blessed and yet not thanking you.

You are the God who is not there and yet I talk to you.
You are the God who was not there and yet I walk with you.

May I live to see your justice Lord so You are the God of the day as well as of the watches of the night…

May my medicine be crushed in honey, so I cannot taste it’s bitterness.
May I feel the loss of each child as though it were my own.
May I feel what you feel Lord.

You are my obsession- my life, my heart, my hope make no sense if you are the God who is not there. If I talk as though, live as though you are, will you be?

Will you?