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In Memoriam poem
By Rosemarie Dietz Slavenas
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The weight of grief is heavy on my shoulders.
I need no special day to bring memories to mind
of all you said and did.
Your face, smiling or grave, is with me always,
child of my heart's desire.
I see you small and wondering, "Mom,
What makes the sun go down?" Then
thoughtfully, "I know, the wind blows it away."
So alive, biking, soccer, swimming, skiing,
running, rollerblading, pumping iron.
You became so very strong, but always
you were gentle and kind.
Your hands, light on the piano keys,
brought out the sounds of harmony,
like wind rustling softly in the leaves,
or rain, clear and sparkling on the grass.
Careful listening was your way.
Such a bright future you had planned,
and you labored long and patiently to
realize your dream.
Then rolled the drums of war,
and you were called.
Your still small voice said, "No!"
But the rolling drums rolled on, and
you were gone.
Into hatred loosed from the gates of hell,
your winged bird was sent,
shot down, and fell.
Your bright future lay bloodied in the sand
to rise no more.
And each day as I grow old, I miss you so.
A grave is such a solitary place
for a little boy who loved to play.
Rosemarie Dietz Slavenas
For Brian
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Rosemarie Dietz Slavenas at Memorial Day, Chicago 2004
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