It wasn't fair that we met that way;

we should have, instead, been outside to play.

You covered in red and me feeling all grey,

next to each other in the hospital for days.

Me with my mother, trying to make me “at home.”

You, who knew pain, with no one to hold.

No one beside you, not even for awhile.

As my mother doted, trying to make you smile.

I couldn’t understand why you were left all alone --

why your family wasn't there when God called you home.

I now know within pain one finds purpose and reason.

I learn this, again, through each of life's seasons.

The boy with no name – no, you didn't depart.

Instead, you rest safely here within my heart.

Never to be forgotten; I've not been the same.

In honor, I say “Love” when I call out your name.

That is the lesson, an ever-bright ember.

A boy who now smiles as he is remembered.

And each act of compassion does bear your stamp,

for it is the light that shines from your lamp.


Bridgette Rodriguez
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