Thurman P. Woodfork


Thurman P. Woodfork: Why?The measuring sands whisper
as your life is slipping by;
the anthems of your being
become a murmured sigh.
The sun inexorably lowers
in your twilight darkened sky
while echoes grow ever fainter
from agonized, anguished cries,
and brave friends all around you
fall broken to the earth and die.
You ask with your final breath,
“Please Lord, tell me: Why?”