The Hawk and The Crow
It is really the only question
that matters so much it hurts.
The question of Fate and Faith.
Why this one--
why not that one.
The hawk circles
steady as a clocksweep.
The crow pesters.
He teases,
he pecks and swipes.
He frustrates today,
but tomorrow
his babe is lunch.
Oh my sweet--
so young to carry these heavy things.
You watch your new husband napping
the scar already healed
and hiding in his hair,
While the dear friend--
equally treasured
equally fasted and prayed over--
rallies then falters and fails.
Each hiccup in the long descent
a spot of hope snuffed by dispair.
You are too young to carry these heavy things.
I would answer if only I could.
I would connect some cosmic dots--
darn the gape with my usual nonsense.
But that would do no justice
to either the loss
or the miracle.
Brilliant. There was a miracle and a loss that was unfair and inexplicable. Someday we will rejoice when we understand God's purposes and appreciate his infinite wisdom.
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