I cry aloud to the LORD; I lift up my voice to the LORD for mercy.
I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble.
When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way.
I cry to you, O LORD; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion …”
~ A prayer of David when he was trapped in the cave, Psalm 142
She screams her fear
like the house is haunted
all through the night
She screams her frustration
because words can’t be found
all through the day
She screams her pain
Physical, emotional or both?
I don’t know. Lord, I don’t know.
She screams her anger
Her own mother can’t understand what she needs
She screams her torment raw
trapped in a body, her senses can’t cope
She screams her sorrow
no one knows the trouble she sees
Try as I might I can’t numb myself to the sound
And there’s nothing I can do that will bring her comfort
On my knees I bring her to Jesus
again and again
like a woman stumbling, pressing through the crowds with hurting child in arms
finding Him at last
oh, my refuge, my portion
falling down, holding her up, crying out,
Please, sweet Lord, help my baby.