De Profundis clamavi ad te Domine [Out of the depths I have cried to thee, O God]
(my souls weeps for you, O God)
Ad te Domine clamabo Deus meus ne sileas a me nequando taceas a me et adsimilabor descendentibus in lacum [Unto thee will I cry, O Lord: O my God, be not thou silent to me: lest thou be silent to me, I become like them that go down into the pit.]
(to the pit, I will go without Thee).

When I was seventeen, I belonged to an Evensong chorus.
Evensong takes place on Sunday, at dusk, as the light fades from the day.
The entire service is chanted, mostly in Latin.
There is no priest.
There is no mass.
There is only the single Vocem of soprano, alto, tenor, bass
and the rushing of consonants, repeated over and over
in meditation.
We were a ragtag group.
Maybe nine in total, and while I've never been
a solo singer, never been a star of any type,
there I was, amongst some of the finest voices my ears have ever heard
in a chapel lit by candles,
and lo, I heard my voice, my own voice,
lilting in sadness and repentance,
growing and lifting like a dove up to heaven,
and I sung
'Now the day is o'er, night is drawing nigh.
Shadows of the evening steal across the sky."
and the Magnificat
"My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit
rejoices in God my Savior."

Now, I listen to Salve Regina, thinking of the Queen of Heaven,
and remember her sacrifice for us, the women, and wonder
as a girl, did she sit in the cool desert at evening
and lift her voice to God, full of Life and Spirit?
Did she sing alone or with others? And did her voice,
that sweet, unfettered, virgin voice--
did it carry to God's ears?
Did He remember her?

I have not sung in years. I have not sung in years.
Oh, Misere Mei.
Have mercy.
I have not sung in years