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By Hannah Rethman
Why am I starving?
I feel that I only delude myself
even if I taste real life,
it will never satiate my hunger forever
I was dust, I eat dust, I will return to dust
even if things make me happy
even if I laugh and smile
even if I have friends I never had before
even if I have a family who loves me
there is no answer in any of them
though they can give me the who, what, and where
nothing tells me why or how
I look up but the sky is closed off with clouds
I look down but the earth is cold and hard
a brutal breeze stings my face
flowers die and are forgotten
the sun dares not show its face for long
because it cannot stand to look at me
to face my angry questions
I look around again and see many reasons
not to be happy, but to be proud
everything is so carefully designed
and how are we so blind to beauty?
what does He gain from being gracious to us
while we uselessly squander our gifts?
the least I can do, perhaps, is to love life and its creator
even if it all confuses me beyond words
I will always muster the stupid courage to say
whatever all this is, I suppose I do love it