hearing Psalm 142

I cry aloud to you, Yahweh,
I lift up my voice to you for mercy,
groaning from the cavern of my bed.

I know I'm only in a cave of deep, dark doona,
that soft pillows surround me,
blocking out bright morning light.

But my spirit is faint within me,
My eyes keep wanting to close.
The path I fear opens up to me,
full of dips and pot holes.

The Devil is in the details,
setting traps,
exploiting the possibilities open to him.
The snare of self-hate,
triggers abounding.
Ambushes of angst,
pinning me down,
robbing me of joy.

This is not 'normal' Monday-itis,
it is any day,
every day.
It is daily life plagued by overwhelming weariness,
chronic sadness
and little green pills.

Look to my side and you'll see I have no right hand man,
Look to my left and you'll see I wear nobody's ring.
No one is concerned for me,
I am the centre of nobody's life.
No one inquires about my soul.*

I cry to you oh Yahweh,

you are my refuge;

the lap I can hide on and bury my face in. 

You are my portion in the land of the living,

today you the only one tying me to that place.

Set me free from my invisible prison,

this weight of wearying worry and woe!

Break these shackles so I can praise you. 

Free me,

that I may praise your beneficent name!

*in God's rich blessing to me, these three lines are hyperbole. The rest isn't.