The Missing
last shabbos
In the midst of jubilation
sorrow
In the midst of simcha
solitude
All around me
Babies, children, teens, full of life
Playing, running, talking
But one is missing
Where have you gone, my little one, little one
my bechor, my teen wonder
my baby, my superstar
my Aaron, my own?
Why have you traveled
Where we cannot follow
Why have you left us
For so terribly long?
How I've been missing
Your voice, your face
Your wisecracks and jokes
Your footsteps at the door
Won't you come back
You can sleep all morning
Eat us out of house and home
Drive like a crazy teenager
You can make fun of your siblings
Talk back to your mom
And argue with me
I won't even argue back
Won't you
please?
posted by Elie @ 8/02/2007 10:06:00 PM -
7 Comments:
Elie, I have no words to console you.
Your "keter" -- your bechor -- is clearly missing...and missed.
Have a good Shabbos. May it be meaningful and special.
This is haunting. I'm so sorry, Elie.
Not even over a year
Can wipe away every tear
Wish I could offer you some cheer
Thanks for the reminder to try and treasure every minute. You're an eloquent writer, an inspiring human.
Such beautiful, if sad, words. I love reading your poetry but wish that the inspiration for it were not such a sad topic. Listen closely, Aaron is there, even though his body isn't.
All the best,
Hila
9.Pleasant Valley Sunday-The Monkees
15.I don't like Monday's-The Boomtown Rats
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