Dear Lord! Where Do you Reside?

By Riya Singh

Gross

I built my nest on the wrong tree.  

What folly!  

Holy moly, such a strong wind—  

Oh, my nest flew like paper,  

and there dashed all the eggs of my dreams on the ground,  

beside my little one, lifeless and still.

Gross

I built my nest on the wrong tree.  

What a chill; no warmth to find.  

Lost all my love in the cold shadows,  

where hope once shone bright.

Gross

I built my nest in the spider's web.  

The spider devoured my eggs,  

leaving no memories in the end—  

only my baby lifeless, and I, a mere witness.

Gross 

I built my nest in the spider's web.  

Called the venom the syrup of healing,  

hoped for relief, but found only death,  

my baby’s light snuffed out in the dark.

Holy God, where do You reside? 

Why grant glee when it was never meant to be?  

Oh God, I killed my gem.  

I built my nest on the wrong trees,  

I built my nest in the spider's web.

Gross

I built my nest on the open lane.  

Another predator came and stole my baby away—  

I shielded my child from rains, floods, and droughts,  

but a simple breeze took him from me.

Oh my, my...

Gross

I built my dreams so high,  

but my hands couldn’t reach that might.  

Fate never had a destiny so tall.  

I dreamt rainbows for my baby,  

and he left me alone in white.  

I planned towers for him,  

and he schooled to the grave.

Oh my, my... 

Dear Lord, where do You reside? 

By Riya Singh