A Poem For Helen

I hate it that the morning sun For you brings thoughts of future pain, That joyful days something you feel Will never ever come again, I hate it that friends outstretched arms Bring only thoughts they too will die, That day’s promise is only loss Life’s colors seem a fragile dye. I hate it that though joy may come A lobster sandwich that tastes good Depression’s grip still holds your heart Surrounding you like coffin’s wood. I hate it though your trembling frame I gently hold in fond embrace, Your spirit’s looking for a door, And only feels your life’s disgrace. Oh day of possibility We thank you that we play a part In bringing heaven back to earth God’s servant still the human heart. Let even Death too find release From dark dreams of irreverence, Angelic music filled with peace Announce now Christ’s deliverance. Brian Johnston February 23, 2015