homesick

I live in Babylon,
a land of riches.
I am presented with abundant fare,
amazing feasts,
only to find each mouthful laced with poison.
I am offered a million pleasures that turn out to be
the slowest kind of dying.
My captor feigns generosity,
appeases to quell rebellion,
all the while slaying
through a million toxic subtleties.

I cringe at times, to see myself
sample the hemlock from hunger,
reach for the pleasure from longing...
embrace captivity
because I know nothing of home.

I have never seen my country-
just postcards and letters.
I sit so many mornings, so many evenings,
staring out at the expanse that separates me from You,
watching until it seems that hope
disappears over the curve of the horizon,
the promises a million miles away.

You sent word once through a messenger:
"On that day, I will gather you..."*
Our captives returned,
our shame wiped away,
the land stretching out, vast and free, before us.
My heart open wide, whole and free before you.
But tonight I go to sleep again
in Babylon.
How long, my God,
until you bring us home?

I'll watch for you,
until you bring us home.


*Zephaniah 3:20