Poem: Who Is to Blame?

Who is to blame for the world gone wrong—
For rivers choked and skies too strong
With smoke and noise and silent cries,
With fading stars in poisoned skies?

Is it the kings in gilded halls,
Or beggars leaning on crumbling walls?
The merchant selling tainted gold,
The preacher with a gospel sold?

Is it the farmer, burning land,
Or those who never touch the sand?
The ones who vote and then forget,
The ones who haven’t acted yet?

Is it the child with plastic toys,
Or grown-up wars dressed up as ploys?
The ones who hunger, or who feast—
The wild ones caged, the tame released?

Do we point out or look within—
Each silent nod, each quiet sin?
The world reflects what we condone,
No tyrant rises up alone.

So maybe blame’s a broken word,
A weapon sharp, too often heard.
Instead, let’s ask: what now? what’s next?
And write a future, not a text.

For blame can’t feed the barren field,
Or make a wounded planet healed.
But hands that build, and hearts that see—
Might shape what still the world can be.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie