There is
something to say
something to say
At times
like these
like these
Something like
âIâm so sorry
âIâm so sorry
For your
lossâ
lossâ
But âIâm so
sorryâ
sorryâ
Never seems
to sum it up
to sum it up
Doesnât
touch the size
touch the size
Of the pain
Or the scope
Of the void
The focus,
you see,
you see,
At times
like these,
like these,
Is on the
sorrow
sorrow
Of the Ones
Left Behind.
As it very
well should be.
well should be.
Those Ones Left Behind
Will never hear
Or see, or touch,
Or smell him again.
They donât get to say
âI love youâ
Or, âYou make me so mad!â
Or anything, anymore.
And so we are sorry
For the loss,
For the pain,
For the void.
For his family,
His mother,
His Ones Left Behind.
. . .
What would he say
If we could hear him?
Something like, âDonât cry for me,
I love you.â
Because he is free.
His joy is never-ending.
His soul is alive:
He dances,
He smiles,
He is light.
His focus, you see,
Has changed for good
Itâs nothing but love
He breathes joy
He is Light.
And that is okay with me.
For Sean.