by Christine Holleyman

Created on: September 16, 2009   Last Updated: September 24, 2009

Truly I am a foreigner,
sojourning in a strange land,
dwelling among strangers.
Strange people encompass me;
none can understand my speech.
Though I talk all day long,
they just stare at me
with wondering and unseeing eyes.
If only I could find
just one kinsman in this land,
one of my own kin from my own country,
with whom I could talk,
in a language we could both understand.

But there is no one.
Not even one.

O how long will I remain in this country
with not one of my own brethren
with whom I can commune?
How silent it is
not having anyone
with whom I can talk.
The silence breaks forth
and bursts my eardrums!
How empty is this place,
empty of the noise of gladness.
Its cupboards are bare;
it is consumed by a famine
for there is no bread here.
The people are dried up by a drought;
they thirst for water -
and there is none.
I watch the people starve -
and grow thin;
they pant for thirst before my eyes.

These people are so poor -
they have nothing!
Their garments are filthy rags,
coming apart at the seams,
with many worn places patched with fabric
as rotten as the garments themselves.
The pitiful poor!
How can they continue to dwell in this slum?
It grieves me to look upon them
because I'm so very rich
and have everything,
while they stand in my sight
possessing nothing,
their nakedness showing
through the holes in their clothes.

I would give them all that I have,
if only they would accept it.
I would offer them Bread,
the Staff of Life,
and Living Water -
a whole river of it!
I would clothe them
with fine, white Linen
that has no blemish.
I would give them many precious Jewels
they could wear around their necks
and dangle from their ears and their arms.
And I would give them especially
the Pearl of Great Price;
the One valued above all others.
It would please me exceedingly
to give them rich, red Wine
to gladden their hearts thereby,
and to anoint them with Oil for a sweet smell.

I offer these things to them now,
and I say, "Here they are!
Here are all these Gifts,
and they are free!
Take them -
and Live!"
But they cannot understand my language,
and they do not know
what I'm trying to give them.
They look at the Food
that would save them
from starvation and death,
and to them,
it is a strange food,
a food to which they are not accustomed.
They refuse to partake of it
because they do not know what it is.
If only one would understand me,
I would give him all that I have;
yet my riches would not diminish in the least,
but would increase.

O how long will I dwell
among these strange and destitute people?
How long will I be forced
to observe their misery,

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