The Good God Weeps

 The good god weeps in silence deep,

Where mortal eyes dare not to peep.

She watches from the veils of light,

As day turns blood and love to fright.

She weeps for children wrapped in dust,

For shattered dreams and broken trust.

For every soul that’s torn apart,

She holds the fragments in her heart.

Not made of wrath, nor built for war,

She never asked for blood to pour.

No throne she seeks, no praise, no crown—

Just peace where love can settle down.

In every bomb, in every cry,

She weeps beneath the burning sky.

She never forged these walls and chains,

Nor asked for power bought with pain.

She whispers through the morning breeze,

Through rustling leaves and crying seas.

But few will hear her quiet song—

They’re far too loud in right and wrong.

Still, in the silence she remains,

A prisoner bound by human chains.

Yet in her tears, a seed is sown—

Of a gentler world, yet to be known.

By Gulsha Begum