A poem about the One afflicted, when He was faint
and pours out His complaint before the Lord (Psalm 102:1-11)


Hear me, LORD. Hear me, LORD.
Let me cry come to you!
Do not hide your face from me,
Is my distress not in view?

Incline your ear, Omniscient One,
hear my cry I pray.
Answer me, Ever Present, All Potent One,
speedily in that day!

My days are rubble, they pass awake like smoke,
thin vanish before my eyes.
My bones the fuel, my strength to stand,
consumed in the fire.

My hear like withered grass struck down,
I forget to eat my bread.
Loud groaning has become my food,
my bones cling to flesh.

A bird of desolation I have become,
in lonely wilderness.
In wasted places overcome by grief, alone, despised,
in one word – motionless.

Trouble drives sleep from my eyes,
I am kept awake at night.
This nurse of nature escapes my life,
my companion has taken flight.

My enemies, they look at me,
and taunt me all the day.
My name for those who ridicule,
a curse is what they say.

The bare ground a table for my food,
ashes do I eat.
To the brim and overflow,
tears mingled are my drink.

My greatest burden, my great distress,
your indignation and your wrath.
You lift me up to throw me down,
crushing me to death.

My day is shortened, my night is long,
an evening shadow is my life.
Full morning flourish, cut down at noon,
withered from the strife.