The sun shone on your last morning,
2 hours later snow fell.
Maybe this was you, gracing us once more.
You stood as a contrast to our black clothing,
your innocence, kindness,
against my guilt.
I should have called, I could have heard you one last time.
I am overdue for this apology.
It has taken me nine days to write this,
I'm not sure what was stopping me,
but I couldn't possibly utter these words.
We sat in a row, listening to old relatives speak about their past with you,
and all I could feel was your cold, thin hand grasping mine,
your large blue eyes looking for me with hope,
your beautiful voice singing me to sleep:
"in der Früh, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder erweckt"...
I wish I could convince myself;
God decided it was your time to go, as you had told me he would.
But I know you suffered and I know that He wouldn't have taken you
before I could have said goodbye.
Or maybe this was His plan, to make us suffer for you, for once.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
The sun shone on your last morning,
2 hours later snow fell.
Maybe this was you, gracing us once more.
You stood as a contrast to our black clothing,
your innocence, kindness,
against my guilt.
I should have called, I could have heard you one last time.
I am overdue for this apology.
It has taken me nine days to write this,
I'm not sure what was stopping me,
but I couldn't possibly utter these words.
We sat in a row, listening to old relatives speak about their past with you,
and all I could feel was your cold, thin hand grasping mine,
your large blue eyes looking for me with hope,
your beautiful voice singing me to sleep:
"in der Früh, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder erweckt"...
I wish I could convince myself;
God decided it was your time to go, as you had told me he would.
But I know you suffered and I know that He wouldn't have taken you
before I could have said goodbye.
Or maybe this was His plan, to make us suffer for you, for once.
