William Sawden 1893-1917

William Sawden 1893-1917 On the southern facade, Of the Golden Rule Store, On Greenleaf Avenue to the north, There is a single window, On the third floor up. Behind the white half open curtain, Facing south and southwest, A sixteen year old boy, once employed there, Was on his knees facing east. He was praying earnestly For a miracle from God. With words audible and vehement, Mention was made of a sick father, A father succumbing to depression and confusion, To fear and apoplexy. The father, a man I once respected, A man I once admired as honest and true, A good man with a kind disposition; now Was trapped in the deep pit, A dark hellish hole, Of liquid spirits and utter hopelessness. “Dear God,” the boy intoned. “Please, Please save my father from himself, Deliver him from His outraged seething soul.” The boy remained there fifteen minutes, Praying amidst the wash tubs and the skillets; And finally, as a drowsy rain Fell to earth that day, The boy behind the curtain fell prostrate there, And cried salty tears of loud desperation, To augment the afternoon drizzle. “I am half here and half gone,” the boy said. “Please God, help us!” And now, as I lie here, Dead and decayed in the grovelling ground Of Mt. Olive Cemetery, I am completely gone, Gone as the forgotten wind That once whispered words of hope, To the quiet lonely ones, As I was then. “Thank you God, My precious redeemer. Indeed, you heard my words that day, As I knelt there, Faithfully facing east.