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Rendition
God, why are you hiding? Why are you far away? I look around myself And not a trace of you remains. The wicked run down the poor Like wild things. They know only victory. They strut and preen, and nothing checks them. They give God not a passing thought. Their mouths only know to curse And swallow down. Their fingers Only take and take and take. The ruin that might save them On occasion calls, But they bat it away, bold as they can. They cast about for little kills And strike from hiding like Feral mousers playing lions, As though God hadn’t eyes to see, Or a heart that kept the count, Or a stone table where the smoke rises From their burning days. God, who can hold you back? Do not levee the river of justice, But let your reckoning run. Make your ruin rain and Tumble them in the flood. Haven’t you seen all this? Haven't you heard our cries And watched the ones you swore To shelter snatched away? We have no help but you. We were stalked through All of yesterday’s years, Hoping in you. We’ve seen things That shouldn’t have happened, That we don’t dare whisper Even behind our eyes. Yet, you are king. You topple nations at a stroke. There is not a single Passing prayer you miss. How long will we have to wait? No matter the answer, Strengthen us, comfort us. Ease this terror.
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