27th March 2013
Grief seizes me and twists my bowels.
It grabs me by the neck and shakes me like a rat.
It darkens the sun, eclipses the moon.
O Jon, my son, my son, my son.
You were a gift we held too briefly.
You showed us joy in learning,
music, games, and friends.
Death, the impassive calculator,
saw your thread come to its end,
tapped you on the shoulder, and said, Come.
You went into the light of perfect knowledge.
We linger here in the shadows,
waiting for the time to follow you.
Live in our daily dealings with each other,
let memories of your kindness and delight
shape our minds and heal our hearts.
O Jon my son, my son, my son.
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1 comment:
What a moving way to speak of Jon. I think you summed up for me how I feel about people moving onto the next plane while we all wait in the shadow of grief.
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