Questions..
so many..
roundabout,
high,
low,
questions.
Do I seek correction
or comfort.
An uneasy quiet
surrounds me..
the mists of what is not yet..
and me?
I nervously look toward
all that troubles me.

Like a relentless moving train,
the threat of ominous storms
the anger of the wind
the fury of the waves.
can hope still rise triumphant
to rise above unknowns
we struggle with the question
the answer's silent song

Oh the bombs over Gaza,
the bombs over Gaza,
the bombs of such hatred
the bombs of false peace
the bombs of the white
the bombs of the black
like bombs over Gaza
the bombs of belief

I wish I could
to believe I can
but will I try?
Can it be true
should I believe
will I hope
should I trust
to know a hope
that knows my name
that finds a faith
that can and should and will.

You find yourself on pause.
Darkness has written a scrawled name
threatening, leering, callous and cold.
It taunts you,
assailing hope,
challenging foundations and anchors.
Your mind struggles to understand.
Perhaps it would prefer to sleep away this sudden night.
Yes, as always there is light,
but, this time, you realise you must travel a different road.
So dear soul, do not look too far ahead.
There will be time for tears.
There will be time for reflection,
but, even time must bow as we ride blindly into an uncertain future,
and, dear end of days,
let your songs be lullabies to our fears.

For a dear friend of mine