As I Mourn
Pull
down the shades and draw the curtains,
Shut
off the phone, lock the door; hang the black wreath
Allow
me to feel the pain of my grief
Let
me taste the burning salt of my angry tears
An
unfinished story; pages torn and ripped out
Dented
metal and a boy’s broken body
An
angel wishes to escort him Home
Before
his soul departs he cries out where he lies
A
thought in mind, an undertaken route
A
father cries out and curses his God
Pall
bearers carry his unburdened weight
As
the bagpipe drones out a funeral dirge
An
unconditional love since birth
An
unconditional love beyond my death
I
sit in the darkness mourning my child, my son
My
soul torn because your thread was cut short;
Adrift
as Virgil contemplates my sins
~ Martin Connors
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