A poem to Garrett-

From your vantage point in heaven
do you see the tears we cry
or watch us as we wrestle with
a million

Death of a son

The show of the coffin
The grave taking over love

The blanket of darkness
As we see through our blind eyes

Prophets

The Accident

Laying on the trolley with family milling round
The footsteps of the nurses through my head they pound
I know

I once had two anchors unique

that held me to this world.

Bound by cords of love and pain

and ties of eternal strength,

Near The End of my End

Near the end of my end, washed up, I find
Your face, that face again,
Crumpled like a used tissue left