Lord, why can’t I see you?
I say, while I blink in brilliant sunlight
and impatiently push vibrant wildflowers from my path.
Lord, why can’t I hear you?
I whisper, wincing at an eagle’s shrill cry piercing the air
and children’s unrestrained laughter interrupting my reverie.
Lord, why can’t I feel you?
I ask, abstractedly smoothing my hair, lifted and blown
by a gentle wind that sets golden fallen leaves to dancing.
Lord, why can’t I touch you?
I cry as I ease my hand from the gentle grasp of a friend
seeking only to be present in comfort and soothe my sorrow.
Copyright © Monterey Sirak