Seven years ago, on the Saturday
before Easter Sunday,
Good Friday already passed,
my leg cast was blue.
I was standing outside your locked door
with you inside,
it turned out forever; both of us
frozen in our corridors of time.
Today it’s once more the Saturday
Between Good Friday and Easter
and I’m writing this with my left hand,
my right wrist rigid in its purple cast.
I’m so glad to have a family photo:
you with your right wrist in a green cast,
and your five-year old face
bright in the morning sun.
I chose purple this week for my new cast,
not then remembering that family photo
taken 30 years ago–my hair still black,
yours the color of straw.
I hope the other side really is greener,
with that warm golden light
many say they’ve seen in dreams
shining in your eyes.
I expect you will see him again soon. (Soon is relative.)
Oh… this is so beautiful. A sweet little boy with a cast like you now. I love the emotion you share in this piece. .. a connection deeper than what we can see with our eyes. Desiree
This is poignant. There is pain and remembrance of a more innocent time. The colours bring out sharp unforgettable images.