friend of mine
why don't you answer
when I ask why?
why are there stars instead of sparks
why is the night so full of dark?
why do I cry before I fall asleep?
and why oh why won't you answer me?
mirror mirror on the wall,
why is my reflection, always so small?
where does the spring come from
and how does it get here?
are there places that I don't know,
where someday I could hope to go,
or must I sit and read
about them for eternity?
why are wars so present here
that every life and every year
must know about them
why can't those be the words confined to spaces within a page within a book bound within a volume within the panes and stories of a library in some small town in a place I never heard before?
why don't the stars stay out during the day when everything is beautiful and clear and bright and real and here and not imagined?
tell me why, mirror in the sky, why do I know you and how do I see, what is it that's so special about me, that keeps my momma so close and my sisters so dear and my poppa so big and my brothers so near?
why do you think I ask all this of you, all these questions just like so, all those miracles day in and out where life is imagined but real in a thought....
why can't you hear me, is my voice that small?
oh my vision, my friend, not at all