His childhood was happy,
until it wasn’t.
Death called too close to home.
Unwanted family estrangement trailed close behind.
plotted to make a shy boy lonely,
War, dark and ugly,
tried to swallow him whole.
In a world where men didn’t cry,
he sobbed like a child
while his best friend died in his arms;
he refused Death when it called for him
and never forgot.
he would’ve recognized the lie,
but with courage he didn’t acknowledge
In a life filled with loss
he still marveled at the little joys:
the beauty found in nature,
a good meal,
a miracle win in the World series,
the laughter of children,
wherever they came from.
I’m awed by the inner strength
of such a gentle spirit,
and hope I’ve inherited
that sense of wonder
required to persevere.
~Elise Skidmore ©2017