In Chapter 2, I pose questions about loss. Just one of these poems, “The Fall of One of God’s Angels,” I actually wrote while in high-school. It is about a close friend and classmate who committed suicide one day after school, on the baseball field. Though I was on another part of the campus at the time, I found out when someone came rushing into the auditorium to tell us she had just shot herself. As long as I live, I will never forget the scene that awaited me as I ran out of the auditorium. I learned that day that we never really know exactly what another human-being is feeling or going through. While I had always been a very sensistive child --someone who seemed to be able to feel others pain, this sense deep sense of discernment, empathy and compassion was only intensified. I still think of her...and I am reminded that life is a fragile, precious gift to be treasured.
The bluest of eyes,
A flow of blond hair,
A million – dollar smile that transformed all worry or care.
With the crack of a bat,
You’d run to each base,
Or pitch a fast ball that would make the most experienced hitter cringe with hate.
Was it just a game to you?
No, it was like the air you breathed.
The drive to win,
A desire placed in your heart by God,
Blessing, turned into an all consuming need.
With the glove in your hand,
You approached the field.
With the crack of a bat,
And the blinking of an eye,
So suddenly you said, ‘good-bye.’
“Father into thine hands I commend my spirit,”
From your mouth to God’s ears.
It was no louder than a whisper,
This gut-wrenching cry.
Yet, it was soul-shaking and heart-breakingly loud.
It echoed through the clouds,
Past the brightness of the sun,
Past the stars hanging in the back draft of the sky.
Resounding into the heavens,
Where the angels mourned at His feet,
Causing a downpour of rain,
The soft shedding of tears,
The incessant flow down once – dry cheeks,
Forever staining streaks of guilt…blame…regret…on the faces of those left behind.
Minds whirling,
Unspoken words on the lips,
Thoughts of days gone past,
Times filled with laughter…gaiety…the unrestricted innocence of youth,
Lives shattered into pieces,
Like bits of broken glass,
Lingering questions of why this came to pass.
All that is left is a shell,
I know, definitively, because your spirit was free.
No one and nothing could confine you,
Or define you according to what they thought you should be.
So with the crack of a bat,
The nod of a head,
You ran to each base,
And you slid into home plate.
I pray that you are on team Heaven,
A team where you can play and finally…just BE.
“Thou shalt have no other God before me…
Thou shalt have no other God before me…
Thou shalt have no other God before me…” 1
(“My child not even – the love of the game.”)
And all God’s children said, “Amen. Amen.”
1 reference to Deuteronomy 5:7
