I was born with a question mark
on my forehead.
Though this attracted
no small attention
initially,
my constant queries soon
became wearisome to all
around me.
So I learned to speak with grace
and quiet.
But you must forgive me.
Some questions
need be shouted
and refuse to remain
unasked.
2 comments:
Questions And Answers
I hear you call from
halfway across this old world
as if from my heart,
the same kinds of things
I lay in the lap of God,
demanding reply.
He does and says this,
The questions are important,
the answers are not.
I like the ending stanza of this poem a lot... it hits the nail on the head, so-to-speak!
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