If We Were to Talk

Author’s Note:
This was the first poem I ever wrote. I was on a walk with my dog and passed a church along the way. I started thinking about how nice it must be to be part of a community like that—and maybe even to have faith, to trust that something is looking out for you. I wondered what I would say if I prayed to God, and all I could think of was how angry I’d be with them—and what they’d done.

I’m angry at the way you left us
to suffer
at the hands of one another.
 
We’re subjected
to the whims
and the mercy
of each other.
 
You say it’s all a lesson—
But I see no teacher here,
just your children,
in the dark,
living in fear.