| Merry Christmas, Chris Larabee
Although he was so near that I had
But to half – stretch my hand
To touch his shoulder,
Never in those days had he seemed
So far …
I knew he was lost
Browsing in the blurred pages
Of the never ending book
Of grief and pain.
I was the one that could fully understand.
There had been times
When my name, and my hands
Had grown hateful to me
And I would gladly rid me of all of them
But I was drawn back
By his face: a mask of sorrow,
Honesty, kindness, courage
And firm, warm friendship
And how refrain from this?
I stole at him a glimpse:
His green wide eyes
Well set apart under his large brow
Were dark and dumb,
His face blank and pale.
He drank again, tilting back his head,
Then he looked up at me,
“It’s Christmas’ eve and Sarah and Adam are gone!”
In a low voice he said.
I nodded, rising
And was stepping away
But his fingers closed tightly
Around my arm
As he almost cried out
“Please, brother, stay!”
We sat in the night
Looking up at the sky
Our lost souls locked
Standing side by side.
And a star rose up,
A bright stain in the dark
Spreading peace in the air
And holding onto his hand I softly said,
“Merry Christmas, my Friend!” |
