. . . in his sleep!
‘Twas Saturday when Dad sat down.
He’d been quite busy all ‘round town.
Helping folks — the sick the poor,
Ringing bells and knocking on doors.
Minister work is never done,
Unabated, sun to sun.
Brief pauses sometimes might appear,
And that’s when dad goes shooting deer…
Brian King, friend and fellow writer, is dead at 25. The last two and a half of those years he lived out in the open -- well, as openly as he could, the global pandemic raging all around.
I stood in as Sherpa the day we exfiltrated Brian from Alabama. The weather was dark and harrowing; a deluge of rain nearly forced us to stop.
Then suddenly, this moment, glimpse of the Sublime:
Et lux aeterna . . .
Author’s note: No actual Harpers were BLOCKT! in the course of this study.
Juxtaposeur, technical analyst, process engineer, poet wordsmith, INTJ, Anansi, MBTI certified practitioner & team-builder, certifiable fabulist & Uppity Queer™
