In Memory of . . .

A young father…
so gone.

A young mother…
so unyielding in her withholding.

A young child…
so bewildered
so lonely
so lost.

Then in time
and more time…

She found her loves
at his feet
she saw her father
on his knees
in her heart
in her mind
and in her twisted deliverance of the babe that was lost.

Innocent…
so broken,
so tragic,
so nothing but echoes
of silent screams
never delivered
against blue and yellow paleness
and still
so misunderstood
she is alone.

In memory of my father who died in a car accident in 1963, and in memory of my infant son who I found dead in his crib early Easter Sunday morning in 1987.

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