Today marks eleven years since Daniel's
death from cancer treatments. My ritual is
to light the vanilla-scented candle, shed
some tears, and write something
in his memory. This is how I can make it
through another year without him. Although
my desire is to write something profound
and earth-shattering, I can never
quite get it right. This year, this will
have to do.
Lamentation for My Son
~Alice J. Wisler
When spring arrived, he had left
tiny tennis shoes by the door
stuffed animals nestled in his bed.
Summer warmed the earth
although his laughter
never made it to my ears.
Autumn brought the dazzle of
gold and winter the soft snow;
his jacket remained in the closet.
Opening the window, I breathe in
yesterday--what I had, what was mine.
Always yearning for another day
before the tombstone under the oak tree
held his name.
[In memory of Daniel Paul Wisler 8/25/92-2/2/97]