"God is deaf."
Is that right? Graffiti on the subway wall.
We cry out to him, but hear only our echoes, echoes.
The world is suffering.
I cry to him then stick my fingers in my ears.
I call to him then cover my eyes.
I reach for him with my hands in my pocket.
God is not deaf. God is not dead. I am to him.
The world is suffering, and He with it.
The tears flow from the cross
Beautiful blood and water drips from the cross
The ground is soaked not just with our suffering
But the God's.
My tears, He cries them.
My pain, He feels it.
My mourning, He bears it.
My God, He hears me.
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