Loss of a Child
Cardinals Calling
A hybrid poem
Is my mind blowing bubbles with my eyes?
When Brandon was a teen, maybe 15, we’d shop at the outdoor mall — you know, the kind with crosswalks, crawling with a kaleidoscope of consumerism
As I was driving, a cardinal swooped down
nearly hitting my windshield,
as unknown lyrics to a song
“to die young” played on my car radio
Brandon would just cross, not look left, never look right, just charge right across the pedestrian path, undaunted, unafraid
This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence —
to make it so clear to me that he exists?
being a daredevil— to gift me a sign
I’d pull him back — and he’d just laugh that if he got hit, he’d sue, not caring that he would not be able to reap the benefits
This isn’t the first cardinal I’ve spotted
while thinking of Brandon —
they’ve become too commonplace —
glancing out the window, and driving, always driving
Is this how he felt when he breathed his last breath ? — in control, fearless, always tempting fate — and this time playing Russian Roulette with his life?
Watching Ray in the yard and thinking
how much Brandon would have loved my guy
and swoop — a cardinal fleets past him landing on a tree —…
