Gone Boy

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Gone Boy

A squeak of a bus door,
Pierces chatter of tiny voices,
Engine grumbles to an awkward stop –
My new friend balances to his feet.

Pulling green, seat corners while passing by,
A shy smile and softly whispered, “Bye”,
Chris bounces down steps with a little hop,
to a corner where he crosses the street.

An ungreased squeak and slapping of doors,
Her impatient eyes peer through a noisy headache,
Runny nose, lunch box and left shoe untied,
A trapped shoelace trips this kindergartner’s gait.

Scooby-Doo lunch box crashes open,
A little boy splashes into the hot, black street,
Before her taken breath could exhale,
Red-lightning, a skidding thud; tires atop shoeless feet.

Terrified eyes catch mine,
Watch the bus!”, she mouths to me,
Her heart-wrenched screams of “Help!”
Get blankets!”, then silence, as all turn to see…

My baby!”, “My baby!” shatters the quiet,
A rush to cover body,
A small huddle catches a grieving mother,
While a strange, rush of peace covers me.

Years darkened by nightmares,
Wakening to saying the Lord’s prayer,
Yet, since Chris, I believed all would be well,
For peace stares unhesitatingly into Death’s glare.

I miss you friend. RIP Christopher Corbett, 1971

 

By Chris Clody
7/8/17

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3 thoughts on “Gone Boy

  1. Read this over and over. Heart felt tears shed each time. The immediate indelible pain at the truncation of this little boy taken from so abruptly in plain sight is shared with each read. Prayers are said out load for you and this little whose name is unmistakably the same.

    Love you Bother

    Sent from my iPhone

    • Thank you brother. I pray also for the young kid who blew that stop sign in his red Camaro. I pray he received that same grace I did that day. Blessings, Chris

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