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Meghan Dunn
May The Road Rise to Meet You
A Blessing for Patrick
Though it’s said that God is saddened
by your kind, I hope he knelt to cup you
as you fell. I hope you never felt its burn,
the cord which tugged around your neck.
I hope you were saved, at least, from that.
What if the basement floor had risen
and the chair you stood on
had been borne up lightly, just in time,
lifting you out from that cellar, past your wife
who dozed on the living room sofa,
above even the roof you had sworn to re-shingle,
over the darkened mills and frost-tipped fields
of Rome, NY, higher and higher
until the world lay below, the way you saw it
as a boy, in photographs taken from space,
printed in the National Geographics you collected,
the globe reduced to blue and green, earth
and space, seen and unseen. So far away,
you would not see us, tiny, waving.
Would your pain have seemed smaller?
Copyright
© by Meghan Dunn 2007. All rights reserved.
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