I Cry Aloud To You

A Song of Lament, in Five Parts: A Found Poem

Jacob van Ruisdael, “Stormy Sea.” Public Domain.

I.	

I cry aloud to God, 
aloud to God, and he will hear me. 
Answer me! Answer me! 
Have you forgotten to be gracious? 
	
I am trapped, and there’s no way out,
nowhere to go for help. 
I carry a boulder on my back, but no one 
can see it. 

There is nothing tangible I can show,
no scars, no bruises. 
I’m smiling, 
I’m able to make it through my day. 

but
my bones 
feel 
like powder.

These dark, warped twisted things—
I am talking about my life. 
How did I come close 
to so much darkness? 
	
But it happened, it happened, 
all of it—really. 
	

---

II.	

These are my people. This culture is 
the air I’ve breathed, 
the water I’ve swam in. 
It shaped me, so it matters. 
The stories matter. 
We’ve done horrible things
 
to each other.  But—you don’t talk
about these things, it’s too shameful.
We all learned to hide. 
	
They’re going to take good care of you, 
they said. It’s okay. You’ll be all right
here. And that was not true, 
but it’s what we believed was true. 

	
Words, words, and crocodile tears. 
These are my people.

---

III.	

There’s no crash scene, there’s no blood. 
I look around me, everything is in
its place. Nothing is disrupted. 	
What brutal confusion. 

Oh, dear Lord
	
What do I do? What do I do? 
	
What can I say? 

Devastated, dizzy, beside myself, I felt 
this pressure, just against my shoulders:
You will do what I tell you to do 
This oppression—what is going on?—
This darkness I’m living

so alone. 
Oh, dear Lord. 

I am troubled and cannot speak. 

---

IV.	

I will remember the Lord’s works;
Yes, I will reflect on all you have done
And meditate on your actions. 
	
I survived: He didn’t break my will, he broke my spirit.
I survived: I learned to be quiet because I wasn’t going to be heard.
I survived: He had every say. I didn’t have any say.
I survived: I’m going to bury the woman God created, and create
        a woman this man will love.

One day in Walmart, a man walked up to my daughter and me: 
“Ma’am, I just want you to know
that Jesus loves you. You are
very special to him.” 
And I didn’t know what to say. When 
I looked for him, wanting to thank him,
I couldn’t find him. 
	
Later when I told my children, my daughter
said: “What man, mom? I didn’t see
any man.” 

You are the God who works wonders. 
With power you have redeemed your people. 

---

V.	

God does liberate the oppressed—
Your way went through the sea 
And your path through the vast water, 
But your footprints went unseen. 

God is bringing his freedom, 
not just in the future, the time to come,
the age to come when all things
are made new. Not just then. 
	
Here on earth right now as it is in heaven!
	
God is still here, and he will still make a way 
for me and my children. 


The water saw you, God. 
The water saw you; it trembled. 

Note: A found poem is a poem constructed from words or phrases found in a piece or multiple pieces of non-poetic writing. (A prime example of found poetry is Annie Dillard’s collection Mornings Like This, which lifts phrases from medical manuals and old schoolbooks, among other sources).

In this piece, I have used phrases from Psalm 77, a psalm of Asaph, and phrases from interviews I have conducted with women from the Anabaptist tradition who have fled abusive marriages or homes. There are a few places in which I have changed verb tense or slightly adjusted phrasing in order to keep the flow of the poem, but the essence of these words and phrases remains unchanged.

The phrases from Psalm 77 are in bold; the rest of the poem is sourced from interviews. The words in stanza four of part one first appeared in a poem titled “The Prisoner” by Eden Claire.

If you’re reading this and recognize your words here: Thank you, thank you for entrusting them to me. It is an honor to hear and record your stories.