This poem is one I wrote in the last couple of months. It is not questioning the existence of God or a god, as it may sound, but more asking why?
Is there a Forest Outside these Trees?
Among the trees,
I heard crying
and, found in leaves,
my friend bleeding.
In mottled light,
I held them close
and mustered might
‘til it was a healthy dose.
Crowded in oaks,
I bandaged and raised
and, in branches’ cloaks,
toiled on and prayed.
In the shade,
I watched the pain
and begged for aid-
but do I wait in vain?
Among the trees,
I heard crying
and, found in leaves,
my friend bleeding.
In mottled light,
I held them close
and mustered might
‘til it was a healthy dose.
Crowded in oaks,
I bandaged and raised
and, in branches’ cloaks,
toiled on and prayed.
In the shade,
I watched the pain
and begged for aid-
but do I wait in vain?
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