FOR ANOTHER MARY

If I seemed cold and casual
during our last minutes -
let me say I am sorry.

But I was already numb by the
news and the nails. So I took
the easy way out -

and did not bother to say what
mattered most: You wanted me
to live while so many wished for

my early death. And I could no
longer figure out the bad from
the good. But I still said my

prayers each night. And hoped
Jesus or Mother Mary might
prove the worldly ones

wrong. And you held my hand
during that dark journey
until the good news came.

And I will always love you for that.

Poem © 2011 by Dylan Mitchell