Poor Dutch

A poem written in a time of sorrow.

The day my father died I didn’t weep
Nor did I on the day of Mother’s death
Nor on the death of any I’d call friend.

So why, when Dutch, my stupid lazy dog
Died in her sleep did my eyes fill with tears?
I was surprised but still I couldn’t stop
The flow. And even now they come to me.

It’s strange but as I write, again I feel
The tears build up inside, and force my eyes
To fill with salty offerings to the pain.

Yet why the pain for Dutch but not for Dad
Or Mother? Or for any of the rest?

I think I know. I am surprised by faith
At times. I know that God is good but still
I need these little shoves in time of stress

They show me being human is a test.
A test for me, but also one for God.
We both need to be sure of each of us.

He, to be pleased that still His word is heard.
I to be shown that life is only shadow.
For people leaving shadow enter light.
Therefore no tears at all for those who die.
God’s promise sure is all I need to know.