.

Why This Time, Why This Place?

When I die
And leave this land,
Please dear Lord
Extend Your hand.

Extend Your hand
To this good soul,
Who finds this life
Does take a toll.

The toll it takes
Has many forms,
Do this, do that—
One must conform.

Conform to live
In harmony,
Or perhaps, instead—
In tyranny.

Among the rich
Life mysteries,
Why was I born—
My history?

Why did you choose
My parents, true?
Why both Christian—
Neither Jew?

Why this time?
Why this place?
Why my mind?
Why my face?

Why my sex,
My height and weight?
Why to these friends
I gravitate?

Before I die
And leave this land,
Help me Lord
To understand.

.

.

Michael Charles Maibach began writing poems at age nine.  Since then he has continued writing poems, and sharing them with friends.  His career has involved global business diplomacy.  He is a native of Peoria, Illinois.  Today Michael resides in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia.  More of his poems are found at www.MaibachPoems.us or on Facebook.


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4 Responses

  1. James Sale

    Why, indeed? The pressure of the question gets ever more intense as we age! Thanks for this, Michael – thoughts that take us back to basics!

    Reply

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