by Makayla Fawson

I find a place
a meadow perhaps
or sometimes the mountains
or beneath an old tree

and I kneel and ask
all these questions I have

God –
are you there?
Do you hear when I sob?

God –
do you care?
Do you understand my despair?

God –
do you love me?
Is that all true?

God –
who are you?
Where are you?
When do you come through?

I sit and ponder
These questions a blur,
then I hear a voice
Singing these words to me from afar:

My son –
my daughter

I hear your voice
among the willows and mountains
wisping along in a dance I know.

There you are,
I see you,
kneeling in that field.

Praying to me so desperately.

Look up,
and see
the sky I painted
the trees I shaped

Everything my child,
just watch with your eye

That butterfly that floats onto your hand
See that is me
and so is the land.

I created this all for you
To surround and comfort you
while you are away

And one day
in that Heaven
I will embrace you and welcome you home.

So yes,
I hear you
I love you so

And when you sob,
My tears make rain for you,
That’s how you will know.

I open my eyes
and look towards the sky

I dance in the rain
Thankful for my questions to

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