I can't explain

There is so much pain in our world right now. My Twitter and Facebook feeds are filled with heartbreak and exclamations from people who can't process the tragedies of war, persecution, disease, death, and suicide. It's all too much. We're overwhelmed.  

I wrote this poem months ago on a particularly dark night of the soul, searching for a little solace. It seems like a good time to share. 


I Can't Explain 

I can't explain
the whispery pink on a cherry blossom
nor the surprising yellow face
of a dandelion weed.

An angry, spiteful God makes sense to me now
as I whither in pain.

Or at least an absent one
who surely doesn't hear
my weakly offered prayers.

I'm not the only one.
Not the only who feels alone
vulnerable
unsaved.

If he was cold
it would explain
why we're wasting away.

But then,

I'm troubled still.

Because then, what

what explains the flowers
in our bleak world?