The roar, a prayer, from somewhere deep
A prayer of grief
that keening makes,
…because of pain that mourning shapes.
A moan at first, there are no words,
then wrenching out to final roar.
The roar it comes from somewhere real
Do not defy, do not pretend:
This place, this desert, so destitute.
A rocky valley, a swirling eddy, …
a place where others seldom enter .
But it is the
cry for others,
and how tragic if not shared.
So roar your prayer, and some may see,
this place with empathy.
To listen to the roar
is to listen to a prayer,
look down the depth of pain,
look down that well with them,
…then sob and wail.
For from the bottom of that well
their honest roar it came.
How can the body hold,
such grief, such anger or despair?
It must not, else it fall apart.
Let it roar and be a prayer.
Oh, Lord, this roar,
is our only prayer.
It is our holy prayer.
So for now
find that place where you can roar
and let the roar be your honest prayer,
your primal prayer…
…your only prayer.
Then take a breath…
In Psalm 73, the psalmist says, “When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and ignorant: I was a brute beast before you.” (verses 21 & 22) Sometimes our prayers are groans or sighs. And sometimes they reach to the center of our core and are expressed in roars, from that place of deep grief, frustration, anger or utter despair. Seldom do we give each other or ourselves permission to express that sort of emotion, and that is tragic. So it is stuffed and I wonder if it leaks out of us in other ways…unhealthy ways.