Why do we ask when the answer is always no.
I look into a blue sky and ask the Ghost of Snow.
But there is no answer.
Hold a baby in your arms, who is dying of cancer.
Let her tiny hand grab onto your finger,
In a last desperate plea for an answer,
And then tell yourself you still believe in God.
Cut your dead son down form the hanging tree,
Wipe the fear from his brow,
Wonder what force allows that level of misery.
The answer lies not within the dancer,
It is in the dance.
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Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: January 4th, 2025 05:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: rin, sorenbarrett
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Comments3
A powerful and raw exploration DWa. One to be returned to several times. Potent stuff 🙏🏻🕊
Thank you so much for commenting
🙏🏻👍🏻🕊 you’re welcome.
A thought provoking read which makes us have a good internal thought inspection, very well written
Thank you for commenting
You are very welcome
Intriguing words David, we must all learn "to dance in the rain".
Andy
Yes don't be afraid.Thanks for commenting
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