Life’s Mystery and Silent Wonders

Each day I wake and sit on my bed for a while, trying to understand this thing we call "alive and leaving." 

It's not answerable.

Scientists have written and talked about life endlessly, yet we still don’t fathom it.

Life remains a mystery, beyond comprehension, and God a wonder yet to be beheld.

I am amazed at how my body functions. Living in it has helped me understand so little about it; some 

days, I wake up and know nothing, yet I survive, by chanting, "Lord, help me through this."

There are days I wake up feeling alive and thankful for everything I take for granted.

I have good health I don’t understand, and I forget how yesterday was.

I watched my uncle lowered into the ground, asleep without dreams, motionless in a box, sealed and 

sprayed with a perfume-like bottle, while everyone sits.

And I wonder, is he in pain? Can he see my mother crying or his grandchildren, who just began to live, 

fainting as they realize they won’t see him anymore?

Does he know I’m uncertain about everything that’s happening? Can he hear my aunts crying, pleading 

that he didn’t leave so soon?

I try to understand what life is, how I fall asleep, like my uncle and so many others, yet I wake each 

morning, say my prayers, and go about my chores.

I don’t understand “how God created His world.” I saw a child guiding his blind father, and my heart 

dropped to my feet. I know colors and he has never seen the light of day

While trying to understand life, my attention drifts to a child carrying his mother's bucket of awara.

“so he has to sell that so they eat cause his father can’t provide so mommy is doing her best”.

I wonder why God didn’t make everything equal or provide for children who have no choice but to survive 

the best way they can. Or have good mothers to raise them.

My heart is beautiful, as is every single human, and the universe around us—though we let our greed 

guide us instead of listening to our hearts.

I pay attention to the old woman who should be resting in her home but tirelessly hawks groundnuts 

under the sun.

Like a gallery, I see disturbing scenes in society, people supporting evil while shouting louder than 

thunder in church.

Then they return to their heart-shrines, where they worship evil. I still don’t understand why people see 

evil, celebrate it, and mourn only when truth is revealed.

We take pleasure in seeing injustice served more than justice. Like politicians, we enjoy lying and using 

people for selfish gain, then playing the victim.

I wonder how God created man and woman.

You said we are made in Your image, but our hearts harbor evil.

Who will tell the rich man that all his riches won’t buy him a single hair in the afterlife?

That he will live as the poor man he once found so disgusting.

Someone should remind him that his relatives and the world will fight over his wealth even before he’s 

laid to rest.

The beauty of life is in living, yet we look around and see that man has a problem with that.

He cuts down everything around him, caring nothing if it’s living or not.

I sit quietly, watching life unfold from sunrise to sunset, still unsure why God lets us live on our own 

accord.

I’m drawn to a friend’s thought, saying we live in a jungle.

But if we live in a jungle, where do animals live? I thought humans were higher beings, able to think 

beyond animals,

Yet animals behave like animals, and humans behave like animals.

I see children raised by the streets, born to parents who don’t understand planning,

Giving birth for the streets to raise and destroy.

If I could be God for a day, I’d make humanity do right every day, and maybe the evil would end.

The evil done to every soul, man, woman, and child, just for being alive or born.

I am tired of hearing children called mistakes, when the true mistake was their parents coming together.

I wish society understood that every child is a gift, not a curse or a bastard.

I have cried, grieved, and prayed for the world, even though it seems the more you pray, the worse things 

get.

I’ve read Bible verses that speak of prayer and works, yet we pray like hypocrites,

Waiting on God from Heaven to do the work for us.

I sit in church, judging everyone, even knowing we all fall short,

For they look me in the eye with disgust for being true to myself and to You.

You judge me for my open sins, and I judge you for hiding yours in the shadows. I wish I could explain that 

we are the same.

At least I pray for forgiveness and for those around me, and I am 

Not selfish enough to think I’m better than anyone else. I’m fine with who I am and what I do.

I understand that life is not a competition but a process, a journey with milestones along the way.

cateyes