Prodigal Poet: An Ecclectic Offering on God, Shakespeare, and the Beatles

There have been times in my life when I truly wonder where is the mercy. Where has God gone? And why has so much painful suffering been allowed to endure? Enough of those times have been for my own plights . . . but tonight . . . tonight I am left bewildered as to why my brother, sister-in-law, and two nieces have had a lifetime of burdens weighed upon them in the last several months. They have had more than their share of burdens for years now, but the last several months have been particularly difficult. My seven-year old niece, BryAnna, whom I have written about before was born with Treacher-Collins Syndrome. From her first moments in this world she has been poked and prodded by countless doctors, had innumerable trips down to Riley Hospital, and stubbornly made it through dozens of surgeries . . . at just seven years old. Where is God's mercy and grace through all of this? Well, to be quite frank, it is often times difficult to tell. We all wonder why any child should h...

I was out taking a walk earlier this evening with our dog, Desmond -- our nightly ritual poop-patrol stroll. It had been lightly raining most of the evening and during our walk I could feel it gently descending upon my ponytail and trenchcoat. I noticed the same thing that I always notice when I am outside after it has been raining: worms. Oodles of worms were scattered across the sidewalks -- shimmying over cement to find new resting places after having had their previous ones flooded. I once wrote a poem that was inspired by this, titled "Earth Drowning." The prologue I wrote for it was this: "Worm corpses scatter across sidewalks / Like tenets evicted from earth-carved homes." This phenomenon always saddens me. I have always, since I was very young, had an unusual infatuation with worms. I used to go worm-hunting at least once a week, turning over rocks in our backyard, especially near the garden, searching for my squishy, slimey treasures, with the hopes ...