I question, Where are you, Lord?
Where is the evidence of your caring?
Day after overwhelming day, I arise
at five, go to the job I must keep
to make ends meet. Every day
I come back home to a household
I no longer control. There’s
no joy, no hope to go on sharing
either the cleaning or decision-making.
More than the kids, my man runs wild.
My soul feels defiled. No one
has bothered to look, to see
I haven’t even the energy
to cook. What will become
of us? Lord, do you still care?
Are you even there, Lord?
first published in BEHIND PRISON WALLS Chapbook
©2011 Bonnie Manion