Lord
the daffodils
have pushed through
why can’t i
the yellow butterfly
finds a way
why can’t i
the old guy
with his bags
in each hand
goes home
why can’t i
the weary woman
in the cathedral
has no food
but lights the wick
why can’t i
the man
with bullets
buried in his back
forgives
his friend
why can’t i
the little boy
without a mother
without a father
still takes his jar
out at night
and finds the light
why can’t i
the baby born
without a stitch
a kiss
or wish
reaches out
why can’t i
all those men
women and children
who lost somebody
that awful day
still walk the wheat
even in rain
why can’t i
the farmer
in his field
of empty rows
still carries seed
why can’t i
the women
who put their
mirrors down
don’t dwell
why can’t i
the daughter
who lost
her father
in the wind
long ago
has stopped
why can’t i
TL