The Cry Of Man

To the God that created me and this world in which I live,

if you know the count of hairs on my head then surely you also know...

the count of both days and nights I have cried out to you‐

Is the sorrow in your servant's voice a song to your ears?...

or must I cry tears of blood before you answer?

Do I have any place to ask of the suffering that you've allowed over these years?

Certainly both seasons, and times of testing have an end‐

Does not the cry of man hold enough weight for you to come near?

~

Where's the God of all comfort in the weeping of my heart?

Only you hear the blood dripping from my vessel as it paints this art‐

Where's the God of peace in the gnashing of my teeth?

I not doubt for a second that you see these tears burning as brimstone on my cheek.

You've said that your yoke is easy, and burden light,

this cross, however, to bear is anything but.

Might I foolishly ask, if the gift of grace is shadowed by the promise to suffer?...

as the words of my speech reek with this taste of surrender.

~

Certainly these trials are not to take the beauty of Life, and hand them to Death‐

Will the siege of this testing give end before the release of my last breath?

By morning I pray for relief

and by day I hear of your goodness...

but by night, I experience Void's Company‐

Slumber's Absence sits in the sill of my window,

and these Tales of Torment hang like shadows of willow...

but of course, there, your presence is.

~

To the God that can calm any storm,

why have you chosen not to?...

how many more?...

days, nights without rest will pass‐

for the battle that waits for me tomorrow, is the very same fought last.

Is a prerequisite to eternity in Heaven the experience of Hell on this earth you created?

To every mouth that utters, "this too, shall pass."

I speak in return, "when?"

~

To the God that created me and this world in which I live,

suffering is to be expected I'm sure,

and you provide everything for every battle, so...

Might I ask why the reward for enduring seems to be only more to endure?

Is this where faith has brought me?

As my place on these battle‐scarred grounds is by no means my choice,

I not doubt for a second that you hear me‐

Because certainly the cry of man has the attention of the God who created him.