Nkwa Asem

Nnwom 88


1Awurade Nyankopɔn, m’agyenkwa, misu da mu no nyinaa, na anadwo nso meba w’anim. Tie me mpaebɔ na tie me sufrɛ na boa me. Ɔhaw bebree ato me a mereyɛ awu. Mete sɛ afoforo a wɔreyɛ awu no. M’ahoɔden nyinaa asa. Wɔagyaa me ama awufo. Mete sɛ obi a wɔakum no na ɔda damoa mu; mete sɛ wɔn a wɔn werɛ afi wɔn koraa a woboa wɔn a ɛnyɛ ye no.

Woatow me akyene damoa ase ne amoa donkudonku a esum wɔ mu mu. W’abufuw wɔ me so denneenen, na abufuw no asorɔkye aka me ahyɛ n’ase ayam me. Woama m’afɛfo apa me na woama me nso makyi wɔn. Maka mfinimfini na mintumi nguan. M’aniwa yɛ mmerɛw ma amanehunu. Awurade, da biara mefrɛ wo na mema me nsa so bɔ wo mpae.

10 Woyɛ anwonwade kyerɛ awufo? Wɔsɔre kamfo wo? 11 Wɔka wo dɔ a ɛnsa da no ho asɛm wɔ damoa mu, anaa wo nokware ho asɛm wɔ ɔsɛe kurom? 12 Wohu w’anwonwade no wɔ sum kurom, anaa wo papayɛ no wɔ awerɛfiri asase so?

13 Awurade, mefrɛ wo sɛ boa me; anɔpa biara mebɔ wo mpae. 14 Adɛn nti na wopo me, Awurade? Adɛn nti na woayi w’ani afi me so? 15 Mahu amane fi me mmofraase na mebɛn owu. W’asotwe ama makisa. 16 W’abufuwhyew bubu me. Ɔtaa a wotaa me no sɛe me. 17 Daa nyinaa, wotwa me ho hyia sɛ nsuyiri. Wofi afanan nyinaa ka me hyɛ. 18 Woama me nnamfobrɛbo apa me, na esum nko na abɛyɛ me hokafo.

The Message

Psalm 88

A Korah Prayer of Heman

11-9 God, you’re my last chance of the day.
    I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
    take notes on the trouble I’m in.
I’ve had my fill of trouble;
    I’m camped on the edge of hell.
I’m written off as a lost cause,
    one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
    one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
    I’m a black hole in oblivion.
You’ve dropped me into a bottomless pit,
    sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I’m battered senseless by your rage,
    relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
    made me horrible to them.
I’m caught in a maze and can’t find my way out,
    blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
    I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
    Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
    Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
    your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

13-18 I’m standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
    at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
    Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I’ve been hurting;
    I’ve taken the worst you can hand out, and I’ve had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
    I’m bleeding, black-and-blue.
You’ve attacked me fiercely from every side,
    raining down blows till I’m nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
    the only friend I have left is Darkness.