I came upon a story where the mother of a Saudi protester sentenced to death by beheading and crucifixion begged Barack Obama to intervene to save her son’s life.
There was one line in this desperate story that absolutely caught my attention as the remarkable summary of a mother’s perspective:
“For other people every hour is composed of 60 minutes, but for me every hour is 60 beats of pain.”
This prayer comes out of that sentiment:
Every Hour Without You
For other people every hour is composed of 60 minutes,
but for me every hour is 60 beats of pain.
For other people every hour can mean promise
or can be succulently anticipated;
but for me every hour tells me lies
and can’t be trusted with one weak hope.
For other people every hour can be safety tucked away
or be neatly folded for another day;
but for me each beat is a stain to soil
the image of the one I love.
For other people every hour can seep away into lifelessness
waiting for the next epoch with or without someone;
but for me, every hour is to be endured,
to be unrelenting until who knows what.
For other people every hour can drink in the joy of life,
can be forgotten in celebration or unremembered through play;
but for me, every hour drains away immeasurable loss
that can’t be forgotten, and can’t quite be remembered.
Where are you in this hour?
Where are you in each of its minutes?
Do you share them with me, or bear the brunt of them fully?
Do you know how costly each minute is?
Without You, I could not withstand these breakers on my shore
I could not bear the yoke that overburdens me
I could not tolerate the insufferable expectation of loss;
Without you… every hour is 60 beats of pain.