Ed Ames, “Who Will Answer?” c. 1968

From the canyons of the mind,
We wander on and stumble blind;
Wade through the often-tangled maze
Of starless nights and sunless days;
Hoping for some kind of clue,
A road to lead us to the truth.
But who will answer?

As side-by-side two people stand,
Together vowing, hand-in-hand,
That love’s embedded in their hearts;
But soon an empty feeling starts
To overwhelm their hollow lives.
And if they ask the hows and whys,
Who will answer?

Far upon and distant hill,
A young man’s lying very still.
His arms will never hold his child,
Because a bullet running wild
Has struck him down. And now he cries,
“My God, why? O why?”
But who will answer?

As high upon a lonely ledge,
a figure teeters near the edge,
While jeering crowds collect below
To egg him on with, “Go, man, go!”
And none will ask what led him to
His private day of doom.
And who will answer?

As ‘neath the spreading mushroom tree,
The world revolves with apathy;
While overhead, a row of specks
Roars on, drowned out by discotheques.
And if the secret button’s pressed
Because one man has been outguessed,
Who will answer?

Is our hope in walnut shells,
Worn ’round the neck with temple bells?
Or deep within some cloistered walls
Where hooded figures pray in halls?
Or high upon some dusty shelves?
Or in our stars? Or in ourselves?
Who will answer?

If the soul is darkened by a fear it cannot name,
If the mind is baffled when the rules don’t fit the game,
Who will answer?

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