Walking along the park and river, baby in stroller, dog on leash, I find myself looking at my phone—again.
I momentarily look up and am awestruck by the fiery colors of the season. Tears spring to my eyes as I realize how many times I use this form of addiction to draw myself away from the present moment.
Well, today I am certain it is because of the memorial at the end of the road for little Brendan. As I head uphill, I know my feet will carry me to the place where his body was found just two weeks ago at the tender age of three.
The case remains unsolved. Only questions remain as our community seeks answers.
He is alive in my heart, asking me to honor the sacredness of my life.
I feel the words begin coalescing—a new poem after a long dry spell. Brendan has gifted me with a thinning veil and his angel wings visible in the clouds.
Sacred Life Before Us.
If I should put down my phone
I might feel red-hot sizzle in my bones
Gazing at autumnal crimson
If I should put down my pinot noir
I might see melancholy behind your eyes
For all the times I neglected to
If I should put down the remote
I might hear you say
How lonesomeness metastisizes
If I should put down my fork
I might truly taste the flavor
Of sacramental union
If I should set aside my sensual novel
I might smell arousal on your flesh
Inner vibration might merge with outer
Divining a perpetual state
If I should put down the shiny toys of
I may have to contemplate
The very lie
Heaven and earth
Author: Anita Brown
Apprentice Editor: Brandie Smith/Editor: Catherine Monkman