proud in your grace
not forgotten
nor passed over
buried alive
in this
harsh world.
drowned by the
what's and if's
and why not's.
no one will ever
confuse you
for dumb.
maybe a little
naive, yes,
but
birds never fly
without a push,
right?

six months ago
                  today
   you left us to
                     hug Jesus.
           it still doesn't
                           seem real.
              Maybe it never
                                   will.

          With beauty and
                               grace
                   life goes on
            just as I imagine
                          you knew it would.
  
              I look for your
                            smile in the clouds
                  on a rainy day
               I picture you talking
                          to God sitting by
                                     a bonfire
                       on the 4th of July.

                I still think, maybe
                      you went home
                                 too soon...
                     maybe it could
                        have ended
                                     different.

                        Out of the
                                darkness
                      y­our wicked grin
                                         crept.
                        Out of the
                                 darkness
                       you grew wings.

              maybe I'll always
                           wonder why,
                     like everyone else.
              maybe you'll tell us
                                      someday
                ­ when we too
                                get to
                     talk to Jesus
                           on a distant
                     4th of July