Brandon, Your

Brandon, Your…

…voice
still heard,
in diaries and drawings,
blurred sketches of a life, erased
before its final draft.
Your laughter, still
loudly seeking ears,
shame these tears,
of unrelenting sorrow,
no measure to gauge
the volume of their presence.
Your life
indelible, fragile ~
thrust into existence
to rust before
each unknowing eye.
Your ashes
guarded by granite,
safe and dry, placed
behind your bronzed name
claims what used to be you.
Your mother, blue
tempered by the toll
of grief, kisses sweet
the pages, to seek gentle
reprieve, in the leaving
of her unburdened
kindred soul.

Dale Jordan Heath
12/8/2014

7 comments

Very beautiful poem!

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Touching and heartfelt, and the Wordsworth poem perfectly fitting.

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Beautiful and heartfelt poem, Dale. As Christians, we know that nothing of utmost value, can ever be confined by a “container”… Brandon’s soul is “present” in Heaven-where no rust can ever mar such eternal treasure…

I believe that nobody ever dies “before their time”–not my 28 yr old husband, nor 27 months old son, nor even my 9 and a 1/2 months old daughter. God alone says “it is time to allow entrance into eternity”–not “man”–no matter what…He has the final say. One split second and my family would have missed colliding
and survived…

The “why” question can never be fully answered here during our exile. This isn’t our true home anyway–being home with our beloveds is all that really matters. It’s the waiting that’s hard!

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