“Why?” We demand.
Like a mad mob begging to know.
An injustice we cannot stand.
A catastrophe bringing sorrow
Over our meek mind
Pleading – release from this bind.
Simply like an infant
Laying blindly in a cradle
questioning someone more magnificent
Swatting the mobile- to us it is fatal.
That we be told
answers unable to hold.
Why? We demand.
This time we mean it.
Not in our land.
This is not fit.
Insisting inquisitions…
Flutter about our intuitions.
Banging like cymbals
Pounding in our temples
These matters are inconceivable
They are – unreachable.
But, come- let us reconsider:
No, not an inquiry,
But to draw nearer
To the ultimate Glory
Holding – tighter & tighter
Like clinging to a Holy rope
Blistered hands, but only hope
Perhaps we could recognize
For our good, not demise
Yes, hurt & an anguish state
But it can refine, polish, and cultivate
So: no commanding inquisitions
But only humble supplications
Coming to the One
greater than He is none
With reliance and rest
He, in control – knowing best.
Where all: cradle, mobile, and infant
in his grip – how magnificent?
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