Out of the depths I cry to You!
In your Mercy, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to
the voice of my supplications!
If You should number the times we
stray from You, O Beloved,
who could face You?
Yet You are ever ready to forgive,
that we might be healed.
I wait for You, my soul waits,
and in your Word, I hope;
My soul awaits the Beloved
as one awaits the birth
of a child, or
as one awaits the fulfillment
of their destiny.
Have you ever, as a small child, wandered farther from home than you meant to or were aware of until you found yourself in a place where you had never been before? All at once you realize that YOU are in this strange place. Stock still, not breathing so you can listen, you stare at grey rocks with whorls of lichen on them like faces, tree-roots like snakes, the tress themselves heavy with leaves and silent. Your heart comes into your throat. Quietly, very quietly, you get back onto the path, then you take to your toes for all you are worth. This may have been the first experience of panic fear ... but you met someone there: you met yourself.