Incoherence

 

 

     It started here not so long back;-

an inquiry into the discord and cruel

experience I cannot shake,

     as the Sun baked the World then,

a dewy mist has now snatched his place.

 

     My skin bares the browning and

I have to agree that, I look healthier,

     but my inquiry shows no sign of being

given the answers and if anything,

     remains a stubborn fortitude that

sits in glee at my constant sorrow.

 

     ‘(how can they prick my child with dart for pain)?’

 

 

2.

 

 

     Whom determines here, who has life

to celebrate and who remains – victim to

spite that operates in sublime tones of;

     ‘don’t let them see us hurt them!’

 

 

     My Sons, my Daughter are only

aware of themselves by Mum and Dads

love for them and each other,

     they did not arrive as embeds

with ulterior motives, the first time

my Son tasted a pear was his first time,

     the first time my Daughter tasted

a fruit yoghurt was her first time – as I

witnessed their sheer delight in such virgin -

     adventures.

 

     But where is it written as Ma laboured

for each that, they be at the mercy of

ignorance – a jealousy that, ‘they’ arrived by

     a love that still remains between Mum and Dad?

 

     I have an inquiry that goes unanswered.

I have an inquiry as torture to this date beckons

     ‘I am not here!’

     It is a simple inquiry and one

needing closure to ascertain meaning,

     I am not here oh Lord but then it seems,

     ‘neither are you as I ask over and over;-

          where are you,

               where are you Lord?’

 

Michael J Waite 15th September 2022