9th of March, 2020 (written by Aysha El-Shamayleh)
Heavenly Father – Lord of Lords, King of Kings,
I come to you poor. Not just that. Also sinful from the top of my head to the bottom of my soles. I am without home, those around me look away from my anguish, and I have nowhere else to go, Father.
Hurry up in remembering me, O Lord. I who follow your will. I who love your son. I who burnt the work of my hands at your altar. Show me your desire. Strengthen me to fulfill.
When you had shown me, I had seen everything. Blind I walk now. The dark is unconcerned about me. Lowly I am amongst men.
Till when, O Lord, will the one who serves in your name be the laughingstock of the land? How long will the blameless one with covenant come out empty handed, called self-serving liar without cause? How much more, O Lord, can this body handle? Release from torment.
You who defends the cause of the fatherless, and pleads the case of the widow, how do I come to you when my legs can’t bear a cross, my back full of welts, and my crucifixion is public? And I long to come to you, in a crown of thorns and a purple robe, I would come to you. Mocked and discounted.
Acknowledge me, savior. Adopt me, holy father. I have lost all that I had had.