I think about you often,
you darling little boy.
It's been over a year
and still
I can't help myself:
I cry when I hear your name.
I will not write it here,
for to me, your name is
Holy.
I will not destroy its sanctity
by typing it,
displaying it
showing it off.
Your name is Sacred Liturgy.
So here,
you are Nameless.
Oh little boy,
oh Nameless boy,
I think often of your life.
It was spent
skipping stones
licking ice cream
playing in the sand
hugging your sisters
kissing your mother
smiling at strangers.
Nameless boy, your existence was a
spark in a rainstorm:
It wouldn't last
It couldn't last
for the rain fell hard
and heavy
but for the time that it was here
we stood together,
awestruck by its light
praying for more.
Nameless boy,
we miss
you.
We have spent so many nights
weeping on
our pillows
aching for
your return.
It would be a wonder
to see your mother hold you
again.
Nameless boy,
oh little boy,
oh darling boy,
oh Sacred, Steadfast, Summery boy—
I think about you often.
