"Black Smoke"
by Lynnette Siler

But I didn't know what an eruption was, how devastating the moment when the mountain exploded, leaving my life in ruins. I could not know how the lava would sweep away everything in its path and leave nothing untouched, nothing unburned.

Now almost two years later, the growth is returning on this mountain. I am living with the scars of the eruption, but the grass is returning and the plants are springing back to life.

But from time to time, a plume of black smoke enfolds me and I can't see the light, I can't see the sun ...

David turned 23 on Wednesday. Chris was 23 when he died. David 'caught up' to his brother and I wasn't prepared for how hard that would be. I wasn't prepared for the moments, in the shadows cast by the light of the birthday candles, when I would see Chris looking out from David's eyes. I wasn't prepared for the sweet refrain of Christopher's harmony when David was singing, or the echo of a piano in heaven when David sat down and played.

My life is infinitely sweeter because Chris showed me how precious his brothers and sister are. He taught me to never take a child for granted. He taught me how important our time together is, because you never know how quickly they will be gone.

But it does not assuage the loneliness. It does not fill the moments in time that belonged to him. I wish he were here.

There is more poetry on her web pages dedicated to her son,
Chris Stephen Keli'i Kahau
[ reprinted here with permission ]
http://www.silers-alley.com/chris.html