The Woman At The Grave

I am that woman, O Lord. Please protect me from suffering her fate again.

Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash

I know, O Lord, the anguish of Master Noah
Whose son thought he was brave
I know, O Lord, the stress of Master Noah
Who could not save his son from the wave

I know, O Lord, the strife of Master Abraham
Who had to place his knife to neck
I know, O Lord, the stress of Master Abraham
Who could not refuse the Lord’s Beck

I know, O Lord, the cries of Master Jacob
Whose tears turned his eyes white
I know, O Lord, the pain of Master Jacob
Whose little boy was no longer in sight

I know, O Lord, the grief of Master Muhammad
Whose son lay dead in his arms
I know, O Lord, the grief of Master Muhammad
Who lamented his loss with so much charm

Yet, You know, O Lord, without shred of doubt
That I am the woman weeping at the grave
The one, O Lord, who screamed about
The pain upon her soul engraved

I know, O Lord, the suffocation she felt
The inability to barely breathe
I know, O Lord, the blow she was dealt
A grief that is hardly bereaved

And so, O Lord, I have a deep down fear
That if I were given words to console
I will scream at them, meant to endear
And then risk the salvation of my soul

And so, O Lord, please protect me from
The anguish, cries, and grief of Your Servants
Because, O Lord, there is no way I could stand
Their anguish, cries, and grief again.

Amen.