you don't need to say it out loud. i feel the question burning in your dark dark eyes, dark like mist and earth and shadow.

why? why me?

and the question flits about in my mind. why? why you?

i cannot come up with an answer.

the why weeps. it mourns and trembles and rages to the heavens, while bare tree-bones rattle against a too-blue sky.

sorrow upon sorrow!

the wind mourns; the sun mocks.

why, you ask (with dark, burning eyes made beautiful and terrible by grief), do bad things happen to good people?

i cannot come up with an answer; i have never had my heart torn asunder.

i cannot do anything but take your hand and weep with you.

i cannot think anything but this:
        God is good, all the time. all the time, God is good.

after all, He wept too.

the sky is beautiful today; it is bright and frosty and sharp and blue.

i inhale sky.

a hawk soars overhead. my soul soars too, untethered --

i exhale worries and shadow. there's still some worry inside my head; of course, there's always worry --

but we are more than conquerors.

inhale -- exhale --

the earth hums with promise and the sun smiles down on my head.

three hundred sixty-five days stretch ahead, with not a moment to waste.

i smile and let the wind lift my soul, with the knowledge that He will always be by my side.