S.R SORROWS Poet Free verse

GODS WILL

If this is God’s will,
then why do mothers cry alone at night?
Why do good hearts break in silence
while the wicked sleep alright?

Why does love feel sent from Heaven
just to leave us torn apart?
Why give someone the power
to completely break your heart?

I’ve seen fathers lose their minds
trying just to pay their way,
working every hour God sends
still falling short each day.
Hands cracked raw from endless labour,
eyes exhausted, souls worn thin,
smiling for their little children
while the darkness settled in.

I’ve seen mothers miss their meals
so their kids could still be fed,
heard them whisper prayers to You
with tears soaked deep into the bed.
Begging Heaven: “Please protect them.
Please don’t let them feel this pain.”
While life kept kicking down the door
again… and again… and again.

I’ve watched addiction steal people
like a thief beneath the night,
turning human beings hollow,
draining every trace of light.
Seen a man scream out for mercy
while withdrawal bent his bones,
calling out Your name in terror
with nobody coming home.

And where were You for soldiers
who returned without their peace?
Still hearing screams inside their heads
long after wars had ceased?
Boys sent out as sons of nations
coming back as shattered men,
kneeling at the edge of bridges
asking not to wake again.

And tell me why a child learns fear
before they even learn to read.
Why bruises bloom on fragile skin
where there should’ve only been dreams.
Why innocence gets stolen early,
why some souls never heal,
why the deepest kind of suffering
comes from wounds nobody sees.

People say “God has a purpose.”
People say “Just trust His plan.”
But what kind of loving creator
watches this and stays His hand?

Because there are nights I’ve truly wondered
if Heaven turns away its eyes,
while we bury those we loved
beneath unforgiving skies.

There are nights grief sits beside you
like a shadow in the room,
where memories hit so hard
you can physically feel them bruise.
Where you replay old conversations,
hear their laughter in your head,
then remember they are gone
and something inside you dies instead.

And still…
somehow…
people love.

Through every funeral and failure.
Through every scar and every ache.
Human hearts still choose each other
even knowing they could break.

A mother still rocks her baby.
A father still wipes tears away.
Broken people still stay gentle
after everything that made them hate.

So maybe that’s the real miracle —
not angels, heaven, stars above —
but the fact that human beings
can survive this world…
and still choose love.

But God…
if this is really Your will…

why does it hurt
like hell?

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