Written last year as we catapulted into the fullness of the pandemic and Holy Week.

To the tune of KINGSFOLD (To Mock Your Reign)

–

–

“My God,” shouts out the suff’ring Lord, 

“Why have you forsaken me?” 

Our king and the Incarnate Word

Has pow’r for just one plea. 

His body bears an anguished pain

Beyond the heavy cross. 

No human language can contain

This emptiness of loss. 

–

“My God,” yells out the hungry child,

“Why are you so far from me?” 

Their body, dirty and reviled, 

Is home to Deity: 

The lonely Christ is present there

And joins the tearful cry

That dares to give voice to despair

And hungers for reply. 

–

“My God,” cries out the broken Earth,

“Can you not hear my groan?”

This planet to which God gave birth

Now reaps what we have sown. 

The Lord of Life with flesh of clay

Is there in every death,

In each extinction, every way

Creation gasps for breath. 

–

“Where are you, God?” the desperate pray

As they reach out for a word. 

Both midnight and the brightest day,

They question who has heard. 

The lonely, sick, abused, and poor – 

Christ joins them from the cross

And echoes from his wounded core

The fullness of their loss.