Nancy L. Meek
I COULD USE A PARACHUTE
Who is the one who created mankind,
like the farmer sowing his corn?
Who made the feathers warming his cock
that crows in the dark before dawn?
What is the meaning of inanimate objects?
When did they get their “start”?
How did they come into “being”?
“What” forms their every part?
How were the rocks made, the trees… the grass,
and the flowers I see in the spring,
that stir me to ponder the creation of life
and the reason for everything?
When will it end… this incessant unknowing,
this torture, this torment… this hell?
Why can’t I turn off my brain for a moment
and allow it to rest a spell?
Why do I wonder? Why do I care,
like why do we live and then die?
Why do I bother to pose the questions,
Who? What? How? When? Where? Why?
Give me the answers and make it quick
or just leave me be, to suffer alone
and put forth still more questions,
like some remotely piloted drone.
©Copyright February 4, 2009 by Nancy L. Meek