Munich, Winter 1973 (for Y.S.) - James Baldwin

In a strange house,
a strange bed
in a strange town,
a very strange me
is waiting for you.

Now
it is very early in the morning.
The silence is loud.
The baby is walking about
with his foaming bottle,
making strange sounds
and deciding, after all,
to be my friend.

You
arrive tonight.
How dull time is!
How empty—and yet,
since I am sitting here,
lying here,
walking up and down here,
waiting,

I see
that time's cruel ability
to make one wait
is time's reality.
I see your hair
which I call red.
I lie here in this bed.
Someone teased me once,
a friend of ours—
saying that I saw your hair red
because I was not thinking
of the hair on your head.
Someone also told me,
a long time ago:
my father said to me,
It is a terrible thing,
son,
to fall into the hands of the living God.

Now,
I know what he was saying.
I could not have seen red
before finding myself
in this strange, this waiting bed.
Nor had my naked eye suggested

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James Baldwin (1924 – 1987) USA
Source: BuzzFeed (Apr 1, 2014)