He died today.
17 December 2009
Eight days before Christmas.
He wasn't a lover or even really a friend, just someone I know, knew.
I don't even know how old he is, was.
Death is a peculiar thing.
Tears flow for him, this child that I knew, but didn't really know.
Just a friend's little brother, of no interest or concern.
And now he's gone.
Forever.
I haven't even seen him for years.
I still remember him as the child I once went to school with.
Moody, prone to temper tantrums, full of life, hope, future.
Ended by cancer.
He was only a child.
What kind of God are you to take the life of one so young and full of promise?
His name was Eben.
He wasn't a lover, family, or even really a friend, just some boy that I knew.
He died today.
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125,005 Literary Works • 672,797 Reviews
Hey there,
If there's anything I can do, let me know.
I can't say that this stood much ground in the ways of poetry; I'm sorry for your loss-- if this was a personal reflection, and writing is a good way to let some of that out. I think the dedication of this is good, but to become a poem it needs more elaboration on poetic grounds.
Again, sorry for the tragedy. Keep writing.
I'm so sorry. I haven't experienced a very big death in my life, (knock on wood) except for my dog who died of cancer, and my great great grandmother. This was a very good poem, very good dedication, even though it was sad. I never think about the significant deaths that happen each day, I just think of it as a day without homework. My heart goes out to you, and I am again, so sorry.