image by Ralf Skirr on UnsplashA breeze as gentle as can be
rises above the northern sea,
slips beyond a starry sky,
brushes him with a wishful sigh.
It ruffles softly through his hair,
dusts lilting bits of sweetness there,
each dear, familiar melody
awash in love and memory.
As Easter beckons to my soul,
one question fills my humbled heart.
In honoring Christ’s sacrifice,
how will I know my sacred part?
I’m in a battle for myself,
and I’m afraid to lose.
Life used to feel more solid,
like I had a right to choose
This is the why poem,
The why-did-you-die poem,
The why-did-you-have-to-be-
stuck-in-the-eye poem,
image by Toa Heftiba on UnsplashYou died a man, yet in my heart,
you were my baby from the start…
my little blond-haired, blue-eyed boy…
solemn of thought, alive with joy.
My heart searches relentlessly
to find you in each day.
I close my eyes and reach for you
in spirit, far away.
image by Artem Kovalev on UnsplashThe world has moved beneath my feet,
but I can still touch ground,
more apt to lose my footing, but
more grateful when it’s found.
image by Olga Tutunaru on UnsplashI am the unwieldy book
you would rather not read
that opened up well but then
took a late turn for the worse.
And now, duty bound, you cannot
simply put me down firmly.
Compelled, you must finish your start,
every chapter and verse.