In a turmoil of grief, anger, disillusionment, confusion, fear, and despondency. And not poetically nor artistically interpreted. I am... raw. I keep asking questions I know the answer for, and questions I will never know the answer for. Questions I should not ask, or maybe I should? By faith the future is hopeful but I dread the great darkness huddling there. I have seen the dark with the lies and hate and gnashing teeth and how it chews up and spits out the sweet and the good and the loving. Am I faithless and unbelieving? Is it in my weakness that He is made strong? Or is it purely unbelief that leaves me flailing and mourning?