Thinking about when you cry out to God, possibly under great duress, and he seems absent. Why would he do/allow that? Why would he make us ask him again and again? Or why would he answer “no” to a begging for relief? This poem isn’t about all the reasons why he might (I can think of more; perhaps I shall write poems on them too), but it is about one of them from my own life.
(My feast example was inspired by a memorable scene in C. S. Lewis’s book The Last Battle.)
