One Question

If you could ask God one question, what would it be?

Would it be how could He have done it?

How could He have created the world from nothing?

Or come up with so many various creatures?

To create galaxies upon galaxies, to fill a void

Or would it be more on the serious side of things?

Like how could he allow some much pain in this world?

I know man sinned, which brought the pain into existence

And that we have to endure great agony to pay the price

That He loved us so much that His Son was sent to Earth

He took the weight of our sins upon His shoulders

Did the depravity have to be allowed to get to this point?

Who am I to question or judge His decisions?

I guess the real question becomes a simple one at best

How can anyone limit their question to just one?

Is that one question like the genie and his wishes?

Could I really only concentrate all into one query?

Or would that one query stretch across one page?

There is just so much I have to ask Him

Isn’t it funny how everything becomes about ourselves?

My question would have to begin where I started

Back when my mother decided everything else mattered

But her children were nothing more than an obligation

How could God allow someone to care so little?

To allow such horrors to come upon their children

Why do nothing when she had to of known about it?

What was so wrong with me that she couldn’t love?

And how could God allow molestation and rape?

It destroys one’s mind for all their natural born life

Causes memories that will never be wiped away

A chalk board, never to be swept clean

Emotional baggage that weighs down the heart

Why God why?

Must I suffer such anguish?

Holding onto things I should forget

I should give it all to God and let Him free my soul

But why does that feel like I would be removing my leg?

I have held onto these things so long

Tried to forget, to erase the flashbacks

Struggled to keep away the depression that ravages

Preventing the self-harm from returning

A thing one would think would be easy to stay away from

But why then do I find it so hard?

Instead now I torture my emotions

Better to feel sadness, then to not feel at all

Why is true joy so hard to find?

Coming in fleeting moments that fade like twilight

I could never ask just one question

None could satisfy my inquisitive nature

Nor do I think I would it would quench my thirst

So why ask?