Just a note I wrote myself yesterday morning...followed by this poem on the airplane.
I awoke in the morning to watch the news. A nine year old openly weeps on the screen, his father gone, a victim of the WTC/911 tradgedy. Brings me to tears and prayers for this young man. Yes, he meets Joe Torre, Yes he tours Yankee stadium and clubhouse, and gets to toss the ball back and forth to Jason Giambi.
But in a few hours, this too will leave his life, and absence, of his father will once again occupy his memory.
Three hours later, at the airport in Green Bay, I watch as another boy steps into the concourse. "Hi Pops", he says as he smiles broadly, goes to his father, and the two embrace in a hug that brings a smile to my face.
I, just an observer, am heading home in a few minutes, on a plane, where I too will receive the joy that this father just received, and which through the Grace of God, I too will be allowed to witness.
Somehow a smile turns to a tear, as I remember, the boy on the news this morning.
The Boy on the news.
He openly weeps
while others watch,
the camera rolls
almost as if we need to
witness this, with a stamp
of sadness' approval,
for the boy to continue
Oh Dear Boy, I feel so for you
even though, you I do not know,
my prayers ring out,
whispered from my lips,
"Dear Lord please help this boy"
whom this Christmas
will feel no joy
replaced by a silent ache
This Christmas
I am different
seems I feel all of the worlds pain
mine so insignificant
yet I seem to absorb others
as if I were a sponge
From the air, I gaze out the window
high dollar homes line the rivers front
world below looks like little square postage stamps
an envelope covered, yet to be mailed
Suddenly, I see a man with
streams upon his face
tis a sad man, he also
gazes out the window
and as I strain to see him
look at him without his knowing
with a certain sense of familiarity
reflection, I come now to see
the man...as he returns my stare
unaware is he you see...that he is me
Copyright © 2001 Dennis Hicks 12/21/01