A Cry from Exile

(an adaptation of Psalm 137)
On the concrete floors of county jail we sat down;  
  here we wept when we remembered where we used to live.
Not so far away, yet out of reach, my cello stands alone in its case,
  and my guitar collects dust under a bed.
The guards tell us to sing; they look for entertainment:  
  “Sing us a song about your home.”
Yet how can we sing a song about good things  
  when we’re stuck behind bars?  
May I never feel the strings of my cello again  
  if I should forget about my home!  
May I never sing again if I do not remember my family,  
  if I do not laugh aloud when I think of them!
O God, do not forget the day that I was arrested. Remember how the evil ones
  celebrated saying, “Yes! Another Christian leader out of commission!”
O evil ones, your days are numbered. May the cheers of God’s people echo
  throughout creation on the day you are destroyed!
© 2003 Jon Andreas. All rights reserved. Written January 2003