Judge And Juror

One by one, we each walk through the door,
Not by choice, but, because of our sorrow.
Yesterday, a birthday, his last we'll see,
Not a one of us, look forward to tomorrow.


With great reluctance, entering this room,
This can't be real, it's merely a bad dream.
Eyes afraid to look, it was you that I saw,
Before all heard, my own anguished scream.


On a chair you sat, being judge and juror,
Scorning one by one walking through the door.
Grief, were you not able to feel any of this,
What made you sit there, tallying up the score.


As I watched you sitting in silence, all alone,
A stone cold face, this was all you did show.
This pain caused by our grief was not a crime,
Yet, there you sat, while watching a crowd grow.


Cries, now being heard, He will never awaken,
Yet, looking closer, I believe he is asleep.
Reaching out, my hand does feel the coldness,
Facing this truth, painfully I begin to weep.


Once again, but now with eyes so full of tears,
I look at you, sitting alone, acting so strong.
Our eyes meet, we now see each other's sadness,
And, I felt you realize, that here we do belong.


Tomorrow is now passed, we pick up the pieces,
Forgiving you Brother, your behavior that day.
Suffering such a great loss, the pain is deep,
And we both know, we loved him, the same way.




Copyright © 1996-98 Belda J. (Lynds) Covington