Reflections on Joe Rapaglia, May 2, 2005
what is the substance of:
*a soul
*a sigh
*a stranger
*a dream?
The sound of 200 girls singing Christmas carols on a tape machine.
what is the nature of kindness
and
what.is.this.beast.called.man?
How does one explain this? I'm not sure one can.
What is the color of the sound that pierces silence?
Oh, Mr R--
could you see our uniform kilt plaid?
the glittering flash of metal of the skirt pins we had?
the rosy pink of our cheeks as we dashed up the steps?
the surly metallic purple of punky polished nails tapping on desks?
sensible brown square toed shoes?
the red brick front of that building we called Chez Nous?
the welcoming green doors?
the rainbow of textbooks spread on the hall floors?
did you dream of Sister Mary Daniel's white eyebrows
peeking out from under her habit?
her polished
antique
brass
bell?
For the last 9 years, were you in there?
Could you hear us?
Or were we merely clinging to a shell?
*
Maybe you departed long ago
when your heart
gasped
sputtered
stopped
Did you go up to watch over us from afar?
*
Could you see the way we clung to each other,
tangles of
arms and ponytails
a gaggle of compromised mascara and hot blinking tears
the sheer
drained pinched paling of youth around the wilting corners of our mouths
as they gave us the news of your tragedy
standing in the lab and I can still plainly see
our mouths proclaiming it, round and wide
Oh! Oh!
Oh...no....
and that heavy collective sigh.
*
You were the type of person who loved everybody.
You knew who you were and what you believed
a friend to all you'd ever seen
You knew with whom you walked.
You loved truly and completely in the Lord
and trusted to live in his ways through service, gratitude, humility,
and upliftment of your fellow human being.
I'm not much of a believer, but I have faith in change.
People squander so much possibility. Thank you for realizing yours, and inspiring me to look for mine.
*
Your time on this earth was too short, and no amount of prayer or reflection will ease my bruised sense of justice and order in the world. Maybe some day, I'll be old and hard enough that these things won't bother me.
I hope that day never comes.
