Who is this stranger who
interrupts our sad musings
with lively gait, his words make
impassioned palettes of the law
and the prophets, suffusing the grey
bleakness of these past days
with lights and shades we never
knew existed? On the road
Now at twilight, we thought
that distance might help
clear the dark hues that fill
our minds, that cloud
our places of gathering.
They were warm and humid,
and locked tight to create
a measure of safety, a refuge
for sinners, the spirit of fear
unable to escape as well.
But here the breathing is easy,
and our hearts are ember light.
And though the dark be upon us
literally, we wouldn't have mind at all
but for practical considerations
like a place to stay for the night
or the warmth of a meal. Should
we ask him to come in?
He doesn’t mind either, and maybe
he wont’ be a stranger for long.