I TURN MY back to the mirror, in the room where I work
Turn my thoughts to the past, though I cringe with a smirk
I gather and hunt, in a deepening well
Of pictures and docs, of hellos and farewells.
I’m distracted by two, that relate to one boy,
A poem and obit, though neither bring joy,
Near two months now, and a failing resolve,
That light will be shed, or that truth will evolve.
The details still sketchy, and may always be.
For the death of a man, unable to see,
The path he was led to, had pits on each side,
And though he was driving, he was along for the ride.
So December is here, the month we confirm,
The strength of our faith, we give and we serve,
But there’s a great void, an empty divide,
The greater the love, the more pain inside.
A mother, no son, a sister, no brother,
Nephews and aunts, and uncles and cousins,
The smile of a child, who grew to a man,
A youthful exception, a break from the plan.
The only sound in this house, is the hum of warm air,
We pray we’re protected, from the wolves that we fear,
That safe returns follow, departures-a-must,
That’s all we can hope, from this God that we trust.