Him

Where you been hiding all these years?

Why the ancient books and old gray men
Who wail like banshees, and cast their eyes on me,
Claiming I should fear your wrath?

When is the thunderous day
That you’ll come and cut me down?

Are your angels drunk when evil is rampant
And women weep for your help?
Where is your raging anger, where is your army of light?

Where is your endless mercy
For the poor and the downtrodden,
Who eat from broken dumpsters, and drop by the thousands
Painfully, slowly, while rich men feast in mansions of bricks and gold?

Are you the warrior who screams the loudest,
Yet never unsheathes his sword?

When they starve in the black gutters,
The shadowy alleys, in gray streets,
Do your burning words feed them?
Where are your mysterious ways?