Some hours ago the message came, [1]
A tiding rimmed in black.
Death has from our presence taken,
Taken to never more give back,
A brother (family – in Christ – is the same)
And we feel, (Shall I say it?) forsaken.
Some hours ago the message came,
A drear tiding trimmed in black,
The scythe of death has laid another,
Found our brother in its track,
Slain him, laid him. He’ll not be back.
Some hours ago the message came,
The solemn message of the dead.
These are always given and received with dread,
Sad the duty to deliver, sadder yet to stand and take.
Someone else has gone in sleep, we are still awake.
Some hours ago the dreary tiding,
Of death and distance, life and resistance,
Came to sadden home and heart.
Our brother has been taken, He did not awaken,
Death has forced us apart.
Death that hideous, unwanted scourge,
Smirk invader, undaunted persuader,
Has plunged us into the dark.
Stolen another husband, father, brother,
Death is brazen, final cold, stark.
But, Death listen! Listen.
You have an empty shell. He is now well!
No more will sorrow or pain,
Cause our brother sleepless nights,
O’er trials, problems or slights,
He’s triumphant–these are slain.
– eab, Feb. ‘94
[1] Steve D (Douglas) Herron d.2/25/94, dear brother, “educational father.” I have missed him! Could not go to funeral, msb having surgery in Rapid.
Separate-Holy 