Originally titled

A QUESTION OF GOD

If all men are equal, then why am I blind?
If others have found God, then why cannot I?
Do all who have God feel the same thing inside
Or is every man's God of a different kind?
Does He form an awareness of strength alongside
To protect from all fear and to serve as a guide?

Is it truly so easy to have this perception
Of God as a fact with no room for deception?
A Being Supreme, who is strong where Man's weak,
Who will offer His hand as protection from grief,
Is one that I cannot in truth comprehend
For I sense no such Being and cannot pretend.

In grief I am reckless, longing to hide,
For who can I lean on to make it subside?
All men are made equal by sorrow and pain
And I see in myself where another may fail.
Consoled is the one who has God by his side
For he isn't alone when it's his turn to cry.

Faking prayer and devotion is merely a lie
That I speak to please men who are helpless as I.
I should not pray at all if I can't pray alone,
And I can't pray alone so my words are my own.
I know what is real, and my conscience is boss;
My eyes and my ears draw the line I can't cross.

Yet I long for a Being much stronger than I,
Whose powers aren't failing and won't be denied.
But how can I believe what I can't sense or see?
Or put faith, hope and trust into what may not be?
My mind and my conscience won't let me succumb
Until I've the proof that I need to be won.

Must I wait for a sign that's not earthly but real
To make me aware of the God I conceal?
Shall I sense Him around me, or dwelling inside?
Is He someone I have that I scornfully hide?
The strength He gives others is something I need,
So must I look for God, or will God find me?

—Saskia Praamsma, written in 1968, before she found God