Written: October 2024

Lord, you are the God who saved me;
    moment to moment I’m dependent on you.
Do You hear me?
    Please, listen to me and respond.

I am overwhelmed with the agony of sorrow
    and my body now bears the infected wound of child loss.
I am counted among those who are most pitied, 
the mothers who sing no more lullabies but sow tears of precious loss;
I am crippled in grief.
I am buried with her,
    Marred by her death, my heart lays with hers,
Do you remember what happened to her?
    Do you know You let her die?

You have swallowed me,
    Crushed me in darkness.
There is no escape.
Your silence confounds me;
    I cannot catch my breath before I’m pulled under again.
Where is your outstretched hand?

You have taken from me my baby, my future,
You’ve stolen moments, memories, love, joy
I am emptied out of all things good and cannot be refilled;
My eyes are swollen and weary with grief.

I pound the doors of heaven every day;
    spreading out my hands to you in disbelief.
Here I am! Where are You?!
Where is my daughter? Are You her Keeper?
I wanted to keep her.

I fall on my knees before you, begging;
    ‘Will You bind me up? Will You restore what’s broken? 
Will you uphold me with your right hand? 
Will you show me your goodness here in the land of the living? 
Will you make due on Your promise and fix this on that Great Day? 
Will you hand back to me my Daughter, healed and whole?’.
Why, Lord, do you remain quiet?
Why aren’t You roaring with a loud voice?
Where is Your comfort? Aren’t You near to the broken-hearted?

The world is writhing in agony;
    We have borne your terrible ways and are in despair.
Your silence has swept over me;
    your answer has destroyed me
And your silence has injured me again.

All day long the loss of Gemma beats me to the ground;
    it has left me shattered.
You have taken from me my daughter—
    and Where are You?