Dice in God’s Hands.

I roll without reason, Tossed by fingers unseen, A dice in God’s clenched palm But is He gambler or ghost?

Thunder in my throat, I’ve screamed into heavens deaf, “Are you real, or just the silence That answers every ‘why’ I bled?”

They say Your will is sovereign, But mine cracks beneath it all Did You make me just to break me, Then watch me try to crawl?

In what kind of God do I believe, Who curses with the same mouth That prophesied the ruin In pages He called holy?

Aren’t Fathers meant to be gentle With the soft, sacred thread Of a child’s trembling heart Not pull it till it’s red?

I was not born to be chance, A number on a cube of bone. Yet here I fall, again and again, Into fates I’ve never known.

If You're love, then where’s the mercy? If You're light, why all this dark? Do You laugh when I land on sorrow? Do You see me? Do I mark?

Still, I roll. Still, I rage. In Your silence, I remain. And maybe that’s the cruelest prayer To speak, and echo back my pain.