Sunday, December 14, 2008


“So you cannot lift a spirit that has turned to lead. Or shine light in a shadow when the batteries are dead…” – Trisha Yearwood

I am thousands of miles away from a town that used to be my home. I’m states away from everyone up there who is suffering the loss of another friend, daughter, classmate, neighbor… another child from a generation in Winthrop that has already lost so much. I am feeling the same helplessness that creeps in with every tragedy that travels so quickly to my ears. I sit here in Colorado and can do nothing but be thankful for the life, for the family and network of friends I’ve begun out here. My heart still sags at the thought of not only this loss, but all of them. To avoid coddling the sadness that has made its way to my heart, I write.

The weight of the heavy air pushes down
On the drooping shoulders
Of a freezing northeastern town.
The words, “One more time to hold her…”
Are written on the heart breaking frown
Of a place crushed by another deadly boulder.
Another wrecking ball driving a hearse
Moves painfully slow down the road with her.
And whispers of a town that’s cursed,
Pierce the ears of all that felt and heard
The blow of one more tragedy to be immersed
In a sea of goodbyes that seems to always return.

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