Friday, October 02, 2009

Where authors and readers come together!


I stretch out my arms for Martin …
If I could I’d have dug his well deeper,
If for me he was never meant to be,
I remain alas my brother’s keeper.

Why didst Thou irreparably my mother’s heart break?
For Martin, until her last day, she grieved
Burdened by guilt she should not have borne
Unto Thee alone did she steadfastly cleave.

Until this everyday these years later,
In prayer do I call Thee in dread.
I can’t help but ask you why Martin …
Wouldst Thou hadst taken me instead.

I writhe in my anguish to fathom,
Your ways in the wee hours I’ve sought
Why didst Thou decree so severely?
The pain his young death hath wrought.

Alan D. Busch


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