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Why

edit epic pink flower

A dangling question on silent breath,

which hangs deaf in air receiving no reply.

It simply fades slowly away – “why”?

and leaves behind sorrow one cannot deny.

 

A threadbare cloak on weary shoulders

which fails to offer warmth or ample cover.

It simply hangs about the heart – “Why”?

and its weight continues uselessly to hover.

 

A chilling winter breeze upon bare flesh

bringing the wish for warmth to shaking hands

It simply chills to the very core – “Why”?

and offers still no answer, just relentless demands.

 

A blood-curdling scream into night like pitch

which shatters silence as peace ripped asunder.

It simply echos unanswered – “Why”?

and from the heart and soul joy is it’s plunder.

Why?

 

Karen Quinn 2003 – 2013

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