To this day
It still guts me
When I figure out she's dead.
There is no praying for her health.
And I stop and ask God
"Why did she die?"
It's a pitiful mewl.
Not a scream.
Not angry.
Just a quiet question.
Why did she die
After all those prayers?
YOU ARE READING
A Year In Poetry
PoetryHappy 2020! I will be putting one whole year of poems in this book. We'll all see what happens! A lot of the poetry I write is to help me understand the world around me. One day it might be a love poem, the next it might be about chicken nuggets. Fo...
