I cannot divine
I cannot scry
finding the answer is a far cry
but the question quivers on thirsty lips
but all the why questions
seem lost
seem wrong to be uttered verbally

there is a sense of loss
even if they said they are found
there is proof that they are
drowning on dry land

I cannot divine
I cannot scry
just pray at night to say goodbye
one more miserable time

there is a sense of wonder
even in the misery
of not knowing
of not finding
the answer….

‘who ate my cookies….?’

(c) 2015 allen simpson

Advertisements