PSALMS © 2008
Your sufferings, Christ, are my tears,
Poured out in excess, like rivers of uncontainable sorrow.
There are no handkerchiefs in the universe to dry them,
For these tears belong to the suffering humanity.
Suspended, humanity waited for my weeping,
As if the tears were the key to its liberation.
Only through these tears can they, at last, rise,
And in their voices, make the song of liberation arise.
They will sing in assembly the triumphant ode,
The mystery of Christ revealed, the final pain.
And thus, in unison chorus, redemption will be celebrated,
Humanity free, returned to its communion.