Cancer

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.