Dedicated to Michael Gilman
The wake of Daniel Waterman, a boy who died at the hand of another, defiant about getting justice to the end,
justice as it can be for the dead. He was loved past the very end, on into eternity.
His distressed relatives shook hands and traded hugs, until the visitors became a blur.
A little yellow duck, a symbol of his youth,
placed in his coffin by a friend
who broke down, needing help to move on.
Profound grief lay like a coral reef
beauty mixed with jagged glass.
The pain saturated the air in there.
Death has been a constant shadow following me too long.
I look at Daniel and I’m in his coffin now.
Through my journey of beating death I have remained with God, though, not being able to face God in my distress,
perhaps that sliver of my discontent
stood between us two friends, one begins to shake one’s fist.
Why must we suffer through this chaotic world while dancing with the scroll?
God speaks of joy within the rubble,
sharing with us the impermanent ether
where we must slog on.
Why must injustice afflict the young with so many lifetimes left to live ?
The questions go on and on,
and at times, I feel unheard.
So close, so close to God, I have felt Her rattle my closet doors,. Her power
roars against the world.
Ah, but that might be the wind.
Still, She whispers to me in my sleep,
Soothing me with the thought that it’s okay either way.
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