This is a theological poem (of rough meter!) I wrote 10 years ago after I experienced a painful trial — in it, I wonder in faith where God’s voice breaks into the silence of pain. The insight came to me early in the a.m. on a Passion Sunday.
Why hast Thou?
In mystic tremor I gaze on pain,
its chaos of sudden descends;
I hear way down within prayer
infused into my tearful rain:
But of me it came not, no, not of mine
but rather this solitary, single Word who
from God to God ascends;
and only in deadest silence is it heard.
Such thundering, savage deeds seem to crush
— even now, see, God is overrun!
From there stirs a single Word alone
hewn from Christ-wood in prayer
plunged far into my deepest fear,
deep down, lowest low
beneath the blackened sun
where God is himself, darkened, dead,
our every last, very most bitter tear.
Only then, there though
when His lifeless corpse was laid
within a tomb of seem’d despair
could we find hopelessness die,
alas to lastly fade
before the terrifying majesty
of dawn’s gentlest, rising Flare.