Yet Do I Wonder by Kimberly Coverly
I doubt not God has good intentions,
And that he suffered for us I understand,
That brilliant man made glorious inventions,
Yet they all eventually turn into sand?
Make apparent your reasons for temptation,
Good people making questionable relations.
Declare why war and violence surrounds,
Outnumbering us by leaps and bounds.
What horrible things have happened to him,
That he wipes a nation out on a whim,
Yet do I wonder about this man,
To make a woman like me trust in his plan.
Yet Do I Marvel by Countee Cullen
I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,
And did He stoop to quibble could tell why
The little buried mole continues blind,
Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,
Make plain the reason tortured Tantalus
Is baited by the fickle fruit, declare
If merely brute caprice dooms Sisyphus
To struggle up a never-ending stair.
Inscrutable His ways are, and immune
To catechism by a mind too strewn
With petty cares to slightly understand
What awful brain compels His awful hand.
Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:
To make a poet black, and bid him sing!
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