Come Out, God

Oh God, you have slumbered a lot

In the temples, churches and the mosques

Not on your shrine, not on your steps

They lie on the road, in the city’s depths

They wait for you on the paths,

In the broken huts, in the shades of dust

Not in the hymns, not in the holy river

They live deserted beyond the cover

Come out God from the hanging bells

Fragrance of incense that evil dispels

Not in the manifestation, not in the chants

They stay impoverished on piteous grants

With withered hands and painful eyes

They wait for you, past the lies

Not in the coconut, not in the candles

Not in the gazals or lyrics of poets

Hear it in the desolate wail of the poor

See it in the common of the uncommon

Find it in the abandonment and in the atonement

Not in the beauty, not in the fanciness

It is in the naked and ominous darkness

Oh God, come out of your abode

And shower your ignited grace

Perhaps your heavens don’t listen anymore

And have artfully closed the blessings’ door

But we are waiting beyond the threshold

Come out God, come out once more