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“The Unanswered Question by Stewart Stafford Ask a body why it lies in a grave, And no answer shall ring in your ears, Ask the rat that squeaks like a knave, And there is nothing to ease your fears. See lightning's fiery eye wink a hint, Hear thunder belching out proud, Hail is flicked off like lint, Dumb as a corpse in its shroud. Mourners do splutter and cry, In unison or solitary grief, Hysteria governs their reply, Tongues pocketed by sorrow's thief. Only when you lay in dirt senselessly, Do answers come out of reach, Secrets clouded eternally, To an owl's shrill and wise screech. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
The Unanswered Question by Stewart Stafford
Ask a body why it lies in a grave,
And no answer shall ring in your ears,
Ask the rat that squeaks like a knave,
And there is nothing to ease your fears.
See lightning's fiery eye wink a hint,
Hear thunder belching out proud,
Hail is flicked off like lint,
Dumb as a corpse in its shroud.
Mourners do splutter and cry,
In unison or solitary grief,
Hysteria governs their reply,
Tongues pocketed by sorrow's thief.
Only when you lay in dirt senselessly,
Do answers come out of reach,
Secrets clouded eternally,
To an owl's shrill and wise screech.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.