I Feel Then a Tear: A Prayer in the Eyes of a Queer Man

O Lord, I yearn for my beloved.
I yearn for his touch.
Our hands do not lace, like the tzitzit.
I wish they would.
Have You not seen my tears? 
O Lord most high.
Have You not heard the sound of my heart breaking?
I walk alone, with none to comfort me.
I yearn for his soul to envelop mine.
I wish our lips would meet.
You and I both know why this dream of mine is not reality.
I am a stranger, in this land.
Those around me turn away in disgust, they look upon me with pity.
They speak curses at me, as if to hasten my death.
Wishing that evil will befall me.
They look upon me as a curse, sent from the depths of Sheol.
Like a Dybbuk, sent to corrupt them.
In this land I am a curse.
Here in this narrow place of jagged rock.
I lift my hands on high, toward the heavens.
Crying out to You.
You have seen my tears, You have heard my heart breaking.
Your shelter you draped over me, in the form of a tallit.
You make a table before my enemies, my cup overflows.
You anoint my head with oil.
You surround me with Your presence.
I feel then a tear, then look up to see You.
Weeping with me.
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