Robbed - a chance to know,
Never to be reclaimed,
Gone with life – the breath,
Of realization.
For choices ill-ly made,
Temporary problems,
Permanent solutions,
Ended.
For those remaining,
Pain, fear, knowledge,
Of futures never seen,
By us.
From sobs, to celebration,
From remorse, to remembrance,
From dirge, to dance,
We move.
©1978 Carl Erickson