Death is a sparrow windowing—
streak-free shine of feathers
and pulp.
We can only watch
the life tick-tick from its tiny
body. Shivers as eyes go dark.
Where is your god,
they ask.
Where is yours—
when children bulge their bellies
and suffocate on flies.
When bombers tear holes
in asphalt and flesh—
and flee.
Death is a fist bleeding—
mirrors stick like spines
and line
white knuckles clenched
at nothing.
Where is your god,
they ask.
Where is yours—
when homeless skeletons
freeze to the gutters and everyone
still walks.
Death is not the absence—
be humanity and hold the sparrow,
hold the fist.
Be there, when they ask—
where is your god.
JKolasch
Jacob Kolasch 
This is a thoughtful study on the age old question of how God allows bad things to happen, and what our own responsibility is to act during such times. Man has caused so many of the problems we face, but no one wants to be the one to step up and try to stop or heal them. I think everyone with a conscience has cried out to God, or what they feel a higher power might be, to fix things. But how many of us look inside, and find
power within us to make a change to do things differently?
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