The birth of March brought spring flowers in bloom
but the vivid colors mocked their gloom.
The child’s portrait darkened upon the wall
still the memory refused to fade.
I began to ponder the injustice to it all
as time progressed and I grew in age.
When I was young there was a song I sang for a God I once knew
but evil is real and children die
and I don’t have the answer as to why.
The certainty of his power his promise no longer true.
While I struggled to condemn my new found doubt
the praise of his glory turned to ashes in my mouth.
With tousled hair pushed back in decorative lace
The family dressed her up for her final trip.
They circle around her giving their last grace
remembering a girl who once believed in pixie dust and flying pirate ships.
As I watched this unfold I asked myself, if it’s possible to be victims to circumstance
then why put us on this earth and give us a chance?
When they lowered her tiny casket into the ground
the last image of her was of a lifeless color gone from her cheeks.
The Mother and Father cried out to the heavens for an answer to be found but in their grief
he did not speak.
Children die. I dont know why.