Day: July 3, 2021

A Boat

In loving memory of my son, Aaron Robert Kistner: 11/4/76 – 7/3/95


 

M emories of you
ripples on a dark lake
rise and roll away
into the sunset
toward that forever night

they carry my heavy heart
on their crest
and catch the tears
sorrowful tears
I cry at times

run aground
since you went away

times like now

would that I had a boat
a special boat
to ferry me
across this ocean of time
over that horizon of death

ferry me this day
to you

to see your face
just one more time
to hear your beautiful voice
rise in sweet song

would that I could hold you
this day
and tell you son
tell you the 10,000 things
I said far too seldom
when you were still here
in my life

*

U nmoored shipwrecked soul
thunderstruck — weathered with grief
broken on the rocks

*

rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

Finish Line

This song by Sarah McLachlan, “In The Arms Of An Angel” always makes me break down. He is my son, Aaron Robert Kistner. Hearing this song takes me deep into memories of my sweet angel. My son Aaron died in his 18th year, just prior to entering college to study music. He was a very handsome, kind, and gentle young man – and a fabulous singer. I miss him so, everyday. I ache to hold him close just once more — to hear his beautiful voice. I wrote this poem very shortly after his tragic death in a horrible auto accident.

In loving memory of my son, Aaron Robert Kistner: 11/4/76 – 7/3/95

 

This is my favorite picture of you son,
the one I treasure most
since your passing.

A simple snapshot,
taken at the airport,
upon your return
from having run the New York City Marathon.

A gentle, triumphant smile,
eyes beaming behind those ‘cool’ shades,
jacket sleeves rolled in casual hip-ness,
bag gripped firm and steady in your left hand,
medal dangling proudly from your strong neck.

The victor: gentle, cool, hip, carefree, proud, and strong,
– fiercely handsome!

How profound this captured moment proved to be.

Taken just before the finish line of your 18 years,
it said it all.

Your race is run,
your bag is packed,
your reward’s in hand.

Fly my sweet angel – fly!

*
rob kistner © 1995