For Lance

For Lance, while watching the interment of Edward Kennedy

Long black hearse rolling stately
down broad capital boulevard,
escort’s blue lights flashing mournfully,
flag twitching sadly at mid-staff,
eternal flame flickering, the only light
save for rifles’ percussive flashes
etched in twilight’s morose gleaming.
Lord, in your mercy;
Lord, hear our prayer.

But my thoughts lie to the west
among wooded hills and ocean’s crests
and mourn the passing of a man
less known yet no less uncommon
who touched the lives of friends
and strangers and made them all
better.
Lord, in your mercy;
Lord, hear our prayer.

So now your bright and laughing soul
ascends, free from body’s crippled bonds
to soar on high and bask in God’s love—
and from afar, yet as close as your heart,
that familiar voice, your other half, cries out
alone at first, but joined by the multitude,
“Run—run, Lance, run!”
Lord, in your mercy
Lord, hear our prayer.


29 August 2009