I Wonder

The door is locked, the key is gone, the street is cold and deep.

My worn-out bag, my only chair, are all I have to keep.

The wind bites through my dusty coat, a bitter, icy sting,

And in this harsh, uncertain night, a thorny question springs.

You are my Shepherd, Lord! I cried, when I first found the Way,

The twenty-third Psalm was my song, at dawn and close of day.

You led me through the valleys green, and calmed the storming mind,

I rested in Your shadowed fold, assured You would walk behind.

But now the wolves have torn the gate, the landlord's hand was hard,

He tossed my meager life outside, across the baking-hot yard.

The staff You hold, where was its strength? The table You had spread,

Was swept away, the meager crumbs for strangers lay instead.

"He maketh me to lie down..." But I must stand and roam!

"My cup runneth over..." But I thirst for a place called home.

Did You not see the notice pinned? Did You not hear my plea?

Did my small faith, like smoke, dissolve upon the troubled sea?

I thought Your love is a mighty shield, Your promise, firm and true,

Yet I am desolate and bare, beneath the endless blue.

You are my Shepherd, still my tongue insists, though wonder reigns,

For if You guide the stars and seas, and loose the winter rains,

Why did You allow this trespass deep, this stripping of my hold?

Is there a lesson in this loss, a meaning yet untold?

I search the dark for that still voice, the one I used to know,

To find the reason for the thorn, the reason for the blow.

My heart is bleeding on the curb, bewildered and forlorn,

Shepherd of my soul, why was I left homeless in the morn?