hiding among us

when the king spent the night among slaves like me?

like a traveler stopping for the night
why are you hiding among us,
revealing, then lifting and leaving?

are you not weary, worn by years--
does not steadfast love shed its tears?

are you not longing like I am for
a friendship and for freedom,
for comfort, for consolation?
i, too, am just as ragged, rank
tired of living in this homeless place...

in the dark, a hand, rapping, rapping,
knocking on the windowpane,
but I check the locks:
all the doors are open,
and the fire is aflame.

hope of Israel, of all men longing
for a weariness that ends,
won't You come and stay?
won't You come and rest? 

we didn't know You'd be so naked.

wounded, abused, alone, and imatiated.

so like us.

and if you leave
and leave you must,
(i sense it in the air
the chill of night, the sticky breath,
the unbelief, rejection, despair,

just a brood of vipers, my conspirators,
asleep in the dark)
if you cannot stay, please just say,
one final word for me;

or better yet
open your arms,
so i could breathe 

if you, if you, would only speak
my heart it breaks
for my worn fellows here,
my friends, my family, my burning tears

but one word from you--
one beckon, one whisp
and away we'd flee.
still i faint for this,

(an' even still i wonder, still I fret, 
stuck in this in-between, 
this never forget,
why (am i) the only one 
asking questions like these?
when the king spends his nights
among slaves like me?)