Martin

I stretch out my arms for Martin …

If I could, I’d have dug his well deeper,

but if for me he was never meant to be,

I remain alas my brother’s keeper.

Why didst Thou irreparably my mother’s heart break?

For Martin, until her last day, she grieved

Burdened by guilt she should not have borne

Unto Thee alone did she steadfastly cleave.

Until this every day these years later,

In prayer do I call uponThee in dread.

I can’t help but ask you why Martin …

Wouldst Thou hadst taken me instead.

I writhe in my anguish to fathom,

Your ways in the wee hours I’ve sought

Why didst Thou decree so severely?

The pain his young death hath wrought.

Alan D. Busch

10/1/09