How long, Lord
will the salt brine of sadness simmer within me
the steam rising up until it is trapped by the glass ceiling of my pain
and again descends
refreshing the depths of my defenselessness
drowning my hope of deliverance with despair

How long, Lord
will the taste of tears season each supper
my brokenness bubbling, boiling over and bursting upon me
blistering

How long, Lord
until this kettle of my calamity
the pot with my portion an pain
finally boils dry
Who but you, Lord
can remove my future from this fire and spare me the scorching

Of if You choose, my God
add to me grace instead of affliction, freedom from anger
and create of me a broth of Your blessing
a savory sample of how You redeem