A Son's Lamentation Poem by Boston Kelley

Oh, my dear mother,
How great is your suffering!
Days carry on and nights pass
As Life unpleasantly rolls by.
A devout way you follow passionately,
Mixed with holy statues and principles;
Yet you and your son must ask,
Why have you earned Misery's favor?
His eyes stare upon you,
Like a predator ripe to pounce.
My counseling voice I give to you,
A balm for the grievest of wounds,
But I am only a voice sounding to the air
With no power to change your world.
Cry out to God, if you must,
And pray for the rain to come.
Where is His providing hand
That cares for His precious daughters?
Rest in Hope and trust, we must,
That the drought will end,
For the agony and pain of Life
Still remains a mystery to us.