Day of Darkness

By: Josh
Published On: 4/16/2007 4:49:49 PM

my sons, my daughters
will never climb
will never fly

their love will never warm a heart
their hearts will never break or soar

my loss was so many years of love in the making
so many hands held and triumphs felt and dreams built
so many childhoods and birthdays and spelling bees and football games

and my loss was so few moments in the making
so few bullets flown and blasts and chaos and mystery and grief
so few explainations given, so few moments for tears and terror

dark too quickly
gone too soon
every mother, every father
mourns today in my mourning
all of america for a moment, in this day of darkness
has lost a child in Virginia,
too quickly for love and too long for remembering

josh chernila 4/16/07


Comments



.. (novamiddleman - 4/16/2007 5:17:18 PM)
We do not know
We were not there
Confused
In shock
And scared of it happening to any of us
More angels flew in the air that day
And the survivors gained new memories
Some came to see their brothers and sisters
yet others didnt
We that were not there
do not know the feeling
but are tears are real
and our hearts out hurt
New hope to see
that Littleton Colorado/Blacksburg Virginia
is standing tall
making us realize
that no matter how much pain they have gone through
they are strong
and or what many of us
want to be
The angels would be proud now
and to the survivors,
keep living and teach
teach us all,
how life should be loved !!!
Colleen Cullen

http://jeffcoweb.jef...



never surrender to the sadness or the darkness (Josh - 4/16/2007 6:02:33 PM)
the definition of salvation?  today, it'll do.


continuing this lovely poetry thread (PM - 4/16/2007 5:59:10 PM)
from Thomas Hardy's "A Darkling Thrush"

The wind its death-lament
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervorless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead,
In a full-throated evensong
Of joy illimited.
An ancient thrush, frail, gaunt and small,
With blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew,
And I was unaware.