And Still, the Question Remains

Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

WHY WHY WHY
The question rings out
Over and over
Like the gunshots,
Loud and insistent

No,
It’s vomited—
Like a poison I swallowed
that doesn’t belong in my body

WHY WHY WHY
The question rings out
Over and over
Like the gunshots,
Hurried and forceful

No,
It’s released—
But not like a prisoner escaping captivity,
More like the scream of a demoniac
longing for exorcism, liberation

WHY WHY WHY
The question rings out
Over and over
Like the gunshots

And then the answers come
Like the gunshots
Over and over,
Loud and insistent,
Hurried and forceful

But they don’t satisfy,
They don’t heal,
They draw more blood,
Inflicting secondary, tertiary
quaternary wounds,
Over and over…

And still, the question remains.