“Cancer,” New Era, Aug. 1992, 23
I walk beneath the empty trees, now dark,
crackling the skeletons of leaves left behind.
Another winter comes, and who will find
me here, who joins me walking through the park?
My dear brother, a second winter was not
for you; the cold comes now like a thief at night,
like that shadowy intruder who took before my sight
your eyes, and all your life for which we fought.
Three of us remain, a photo of the four
stands proud on mother’s hearth.
We meet and talk
in quiet tones of you, of Life, and the Rock,
Who chose to take you, and be with us no more.
You may know Him—may see Him better in your scope.
Stay with him, brother: it is He
who gives us hope.