R S Thomas

<Audio>

Why?

Because his words were the

candlelight in their tears,

the people of his years,

hardened in their land,

bowed under his dark sky,

he under his question, why?

Why am I still waiting

for His answer?

What is my place

in this, their place?

Forever on his knees he asked

again, and again,

why?

To which, I reply,

who else could? But

R S Thomas