May there be no breach in the walls, no exile,
and no cry of distress in our streets.
Holy One, the walls have been breached.
Your people are crying,
and we are in exile in our own land.
What is this place where we now live?
Hate marches down city streets at the noon of day.
Abusers walk the halls of justice and power.
Children are stripped from their mothers’ arms and sleep in cages at the border.
Holy One, where are you today?
The evildoers hold the fortresses of power.
The exploiters of the poor grow in their wealth.
Your little ones languish in despair.
Calls of distress go ignored in the streets.
Where is our hope?
Where is our rescuer?
Come quickly, God of Compassion
Come quickly to save us.
This is my conversation with Psalm 144:14 from the Pilgrim Press Book, The Words of Her Mouth: Psalms for the Struggle. Image by David Ramos on Unsplash.com.