The Question of Why
A poem about one of life's bigger questions.
Ask why, but only if you’ve asked why not
For it seems to be the mission in life of some
As the darkness consumes light shall not be forgot
Remember more the times with friends and good rum
Hard it will be, to suffer the changes thrust at us
A fight to get to the other side the first
No mistaking a fight so perilous
In a desert of the doomed you’ll feel that familiar thirst
Times that test your soul will land as well
Keep going until the end is the best bet
A hand reaches up from the depths of hell
Past fights come to mind, of which you’re a vet
The odds, always stacked against some from birth
Fighting to survive from that very first breath
Never valuing their worth
They’ve many times braved their impending death
Why fight, the question that some do ask
Living choices that are different and can confuse
Look not for answers into the dark and lonely past
For there’s no advice there that you can use
To not fight what looms in the darkness of tomorrow
A pondering some do when they feel too weary
To not fight is to escape from seeing so much sorrow
Scary for most who think of it, and end up with eyes so teary
Why fight, some still want to know
They see the pain of existence in your eyes
Your grief starts to show
But are you the type who rolls over and dies
Fight for every minute with the ones you cherish most
Give the fight all that you’ve got
Fight hard before you’re suddenly just a ghost
Before you end up in that place believed to be hot
It’ll end eventually, of that there’s no doubt
Your relief is coming soon
Rise when forgotten with a violent shout
Shout it out to be heard on the moon
At fight's end, go out with grace
Your decisions, those of a mostly good man
Keep dignity and calm etched onto your face
Go with the hope that there’s a grander plan
About the Creator
Jason Ray Morton
Writing has become more important as I live with cancer. It's a therapy, it's an escape, and it's a way to do something lasting that hopefully leaves an impression.
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Comments (2)
For our first test in freshman debate class, our teacher & coach gave us an extra credit question: "Why?" I was eloquent in my response, the words flowing fast & furious from my pencil, offering up the best possible defense of why we should take this class, learn how to debate well & go forth to debate with others. Only two answers were acceptable: "Because" & "Why not?" The lesson he wanted us to learn was that in debate you never answer a question that has not been asked. I've held that lesson close to my being for the past 50 years. But not simply for the lesson he wished to teach us. That answer, "Why not?" has become my response every time someone questions why we suffer misfortune. To the constant queries of "Why me?" & find myself responding, "Why not me?" When people ask, "Where was/is God?" I answer, "With those who are suffering." And instead of asking, "Why do they suffer?" I try to remember to ask, "What can I/we do to help?" Wonderful poem & ponderings, Jason, powerfully debated & expressed.
This piece hits hard. It’s about pushing through life’s crap, clinging to your crew and that scrappy pride. Feels like a raw, hopeful yell. Love that vibe, “It sucks, but we’re tougher.” 💪🏼