Photograph: Sharron R. McMillan
I am so tired
of trying to make sense
out of senselessness,
looking for reasons why,
a maybe to hang the purpose onto.
It doesn’t matter really,
an answer to the whys.
Even if it was a neat and tidy one
it would not fill the void left by the questions.
Nor would it bring back that which caused the questions
to be asked.
No tidy box will fit around those years,
no answers,
no reasons.
What was, was.
What is, is.
What remains, remains.
What will be, will be.
©1986 Sharron R. McMillan
hernibs 