All my short and stubborn days,
I've looked to you
After every angry violent burst
I've looked to you

And when I wandered and I ran
far across the fragile edges of my pride
when I lost all glint of light
all taste and trust for hope

I have looked to you

And now I am here, once more
far from all I understand
And I beg for tears flow
to feel the violent grace
of your heavy hand

And I am looking to you

And you are quiet as you always are
silent as the grave....
But graves have spoken once before
long ago on that third morning bright

And I
I am still looking to you
and hoping, and afraid
of what it is that you will do