I could not cry
I don’t think I could feel
the tentacles of grief reaching for me
but found me slipping
from their grasp.
Why do things come back to me?
Carrying questions that hurt to ask
and searching for answers I may not want to know.
What did you gain
by taking away
the precious gift God gave you?
Why did you starve
become cold and hard
when you could not hear Him call you?
My heart turns to ice
as hot tears spill down between cracks
You ended it before
He came for you
you took into your own hand
your fate –
you thought you knew His truth.
Who am I to ask why?
I have felt their questions thud in the waters of my heart
like stones thrown in a pool
but the ripples do not stop
they carry on like a wave
to lay their questions on the banks of my mind
but instead of treasures to collect
I have weighted stones
to carry.