THRENODY
Bob Ludden
http://www.essex1.com/people/robert/
No platitudes for you, my son.
Your eyes were cameras, seeing through
Our makeup and our emperor's clothes,
Reflecting images too filled with warts and pretense
(and this too, makes you smile)--noting them,
And loving us....more strongly than we knew.
There was a thing you couldn't do
And had our vision been so sharp as yours
We might have found a way
To help you love yourself---One blind spot
lurked as such spots will, and thus ignored
collected its profane reward,
and left us destitute.
To see our tears would bring some sympathy,
But not much patience (Yours were always secret,
And, I'm sure, more frequent than we knew.)
You'd want us to have done with them,
And get on with the matter of loving
And you'd be watching some place,
and pulling for us.
Oh, about those tears, Mark....
Why won't they stop?
this poem was written 2 days after Mr. Ludden learned of hisson's suicide
