The contents
of this page will vary. Sometimes it may be humorous, sometimes angry,
sometimes sad ... whatever emotion or thought has my attention at the
moment.
Never
Me
I
think of my son of twenty-seven years.
I want to hold him on my knee again.
I think about his small child and remember
when a kiss could chase away all the pain.
I remember the near misses: at five days,
at 10 months, two years, 12, and 24
I remember my confidence in God’s plan.
I
receive the news.
A child is lost.
A young man, a brother, a son.
I
weep in shared sorrow.
I am uplifted by shared faith.
Yet I pitifully whimper,
'Lord, let it never be me.'
©2003
Cilla
