Poem: The Mystery

view From the Front Porch Porch
The Mystery

 

Here’s a mystery

That’s hard to explain—

When bad things happen,

God gets the blame.

 

Why don’t folks blame

The bad old Devil

Who snickers and smiles

As he does his evil?

 

He’s a sharp cookie,

Devious and MEAN.

Deliberately sucks us

Into his scheme.

 

But, we’re MAD at God—

Doesn’t He care???

If He’s so powerful

Shouldn’t He share???

 

We think it’s His fault

That things go awry.

For He sees the suffering

And knows that we cry.

 

It rains on the just

And unjust alike.

In a fallen world

There’s evil and strife.

 

The Devil’s around

And wields lots of power

But only when granted

So resist him each hour.

 

Martha Nored

5-9-10

 

 

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4 Comments

  1. Hi mom. Thanks for sharing this! I can hear your mom when I read this. A lot of theology packed into this poem.

    You have a gift for meter and rhyme. Good job! Love you so much!!

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