Where Am I?

After the German Wings crash,

all the jokes about the pearly gates

and St. Peter's gatekeeping role

make me nauseated,

because I keep seeing all

of those families of teenagers,

eager to reunite

with their exchange students,

now just hoping for a chance

to personally view the debris field

as a flimsy substitute for closure.

I want to rage, with Job, 

railing toward the heavens,

"Why couldn't you keep them aloft?!"

even though I know the answer

will still be the same,

"Where were you when the universe's

underpinnings were formed?"

I used to think this was God's

cop-out; a form of,

"Because I'm the parent,

that's why!" Then I became

a husband, father, friend,

who found himself sitting,

hurting with others in the depths

of their pain and loss,

and I realized that part

of what God is saying is,

 "I was there; I am there;

I will be there;

in the remote mountains 

with the recovery teams,

at the airport where the plane

will never land, and in all of the places

where grief's pall is suffocating.

I will be under that heavy blanket,

making sure there’s breathing room.

Where are you?"

© 2015 Todd Jenkins