Who can say
where the wind goes to die,
Or why each living thing
one day ceases to sigh?

Who holds the soul
that grieves a loss,
Or paints gray stones
with rains shine of gloss?

Ashes to ashes,
and dust to dust—
Who can with certainty
what lies beneath the crust
Of lost faith and broken trust?

If you believe not in God,
or in evolution,
At what do you nod,
to explain your existence?

I see Him in nature,
I see Him in children,
He’s there at the center
of all I comprehend,
When deciding where it started
and where it will end.

Karen Chaffee 2009