Teresa

FRIDAY

There are questions that wait in the shadows
doubts that lurk until we shut the lights off
and try to sleep

The kind of despair that forms its own tape over our mouths when we try to pray
The Question
trembles in our chest
fights its way out of our throats and sticks in the air
vapor-like warm breath meeting cold wind
God, where are you?

Maybe I shouldn't question you.
Maybe I shouldn't doubt you, but sometimes I do
sometimes life and tragedy and grief make it
difficult to believe you
I want to
but sometimes it's hard to
so, where are you now?

When I cry, when I try, when I want to know why?
Where do I find your quiet in the midst of the noise?
How do I now mistake your silence for the thought that you don't hear my voice?

There are questions that wait in the shadows
doubts that lurk until we shut the lights off
and try to sleep
 

TERESA

Darkness such that haunts my soul
Desperate longing for an absent God
The torture and the pain I can't explain
My heart cries

Repulsed and empty in my soul
Revolted by the blatant lack of God
The torture and the pain I can't explain
My heart cries

Oh my God, where are you?
Oh my God, where are you?
Oh my God, my God, my God

Repulsed and empty in my soul
Revolted by the blatant lack of God
The torture and the pain I can't explain
My heart cries

Oh my God, where are you?
Oh my God, where are you?
Oh my God, my God, my God