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Stranger in the Land, by Ronald M Raynes






He came to me late in the night,

Like in a dream, somehow disconnected,

I could see his face, the image hovering.


There is time between us, different worlds

Intersecting in space, yet he beckons

To me, smiling, with kindness in his eyes.


How shall I reach to him, waiting there

At my bed, extending to me his hand?

I grasp the image and yet he is gone.


Oh that I might embrace the truth of him!

The sandaled feet stirring up the desert dust,

The warm water from his earthen flask.


I shall not mince words...He consumes me.

This stranger, this man of simple means.

I cannot rest, but to follow his footsteps.


From behind the thorny acacia, I watch him.

Watch the crowds press upon him, needy.

Drawing life from him, yet only to leave him.


Let me walk up to him, kindly stroke his face,

Returning smile for tender smile. He will be

No stranger to me, no man behind the gates.


The cock crows, and yet I deny him. Tears.

I would linger, struggling to prove otherwise,

But time blinks, I turn and he is gone.








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