Psalmic Lament
poem by:
Rhys Lee
Written
on Mar 26, 2020
I’ve known You all my life,
dedicating my life to the church and
Your name. I’ve been devout,
always proclaiming Your name
in my life, claiming that I follow You
at all times and in all my ways,
and I know I should be praying but
I haven’t in such a long time,
thinking egotistically that somehow
I can save myself and that I have to
solve my problems by myself—
but now things are so fucked up
that I need to pray—
what do I even say to You? You Who
knows everything and knows all things,
from Whom flows all Being and
Creation—You Who shaped me in my
mother’s womb and gave me the
Breath of Life—what could I possibly
say to You that You don’t already know
except what the fuck happened?
I followed Your every instruction,
went to college where You wanted me
to go, met a woman and loved her
like You told me to, and yet she
betrayed me—she cheat on me, God!
And yet You told me to love her!
What happened?
Did I not follow Your instruction to a T?
Did I not follow You?! I know I have anger,
and I know I became complacent, but
what else did I do wrong for this to happen?
And as I’ve distanced myself from her,
I realize I’ve betrayed You, taking
nothing from our marriage, committing
adultery on the Groom who gave Himself
for me, and I’ve fucked someone else
in our matrimonial bed—how much
does it hurt God? Do You actually
know my pain?
I want to burn that bed to ash like
I’ve burned down our commitment and
our covenant—I want to cover myself in
those ashes and rend my shirt just to
curse Your name finally—I've been in
the church all my life but all I found was
watered down spirituality so that I
have my fist raised high for the bliss it is,
to finally have a Christ to crucify
and then to kiss—but I didn’t crucify You—
I took on all my own problems and tried
to change myself while whipping my own
back just to punish myself so that You
wouldn’t have to get Your hands dirty—
because my hands are already bloody.
I listened to You, God. And now I cry
my God, my God, why have You forsaken me?
I call out to You but You never answer,
and I weep on Your shoulder, but You
don’t seem to listen. What are You doing?
I am drowning, but You haven’t sent a fish
to swallow me whole, and You haven’t
shown me a burning bush calling me out
of the desert, and You haven’t sent a prophetic
vision to guide me—I rest my head on rocks
while the quicksand and tar slowly swallow
me and suffocate me, fossilize me while
I die. This is the end of me, God.
Do You even care?
I am wandering the desert waiting upon
Your deliverance—how long do You want
me to wander dehydrated and famished?—
when will this storm finally pass?— what
are You doing to me, God?
Did You lie to me when You told me
to love? What do I do now?
I’ve tried chocking this all up to
free will but now I’m turning to You
because I loved like You told me to!
Why would You tell me to love if You knew
I would destroy my commitment like this?
I don’t believe You’re cruel and conniving,
but after this I’m starting to question it.
What are You trying to prove?
My faith is shaken, and I doubt Your
goodness, but I have to know—is there
a balm to heal my sin-sick soul,
to make the wounded whole?
Am I your bride adorned in garments
of salvation torn promised to an air sign? Am I
still not saved? Was I not sufficiently ashamed? Neither did I blush save to speak Your name.
Can I trust in Your goodness and love, and
in Your anger can I find no sin— in my
anger can I find no sin?
Then let fiery rain and brimstone come
falling down on the Cities of the Plain,
because now’s as dreadful a time
as any to begin—destroy me vengefully.