Ode to the Outsider

Where are my people
Among whom I feel at peace
Free to be fully myself
Understood implicitly
Belonging in their midst
Even in differences
Where are my people Oh God?
I have lived among many groups
I have observed the ways
Adapted and been outside circles impossible to go in more than a pace
It’s not only them saying “You are not from around here”,
“We don’t understand who you are”, ”
“You are not good enough, or you are too good, for us.”
To accept you authentically would mean
We would have to stop being struck down or stuck up.
It is the culture, the customs, the ideals, subtle and wide, that separate the human family from hearts bonding Divinely.
When can I rest among those of my kind?
In a world where some move and many stay
To be entrenched alone among old generations
I feel for the immigrant, the outsider, the foreigner in the midst
Who is never allowed to quite fit even if they join and serve and give
My people are Your people, yet,
There are still veils, layers and walls unable to be scaled
Is this Your way Oh God, part of Your plan
To make those left in the outer court long for heaven?
Show me where you are in this deportation, on the path of Gypsies and Pilgrims and those displaced
Show me where You are on this trail of tears, You who were outcast, despised and shut out by your peers

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