Where Are You Going, My Little One?

I saw a boy on a bike go by
He was ten years old and blue of eye.
Slender like you with straight blonde hair
But hard as I looked, you were not there.

I saw a group of children playing ball
Boys and girls, both big and small.
I was restless inside, and the panic grew,
Because try as I might, I could not see you.

You are not really one of them, my little son
You’ll always be a special one.
Here for a short while, then gone somewhere
I could rest inside if I just knew
Where.

I glanced up at the clouds as they billowed by
Floating free in a peaceful sky
Lovely and light –they have not a care
And finally my son, I saw you there.
(Anonymous in Kubler-Ross, 1981, pg. 161.)


This poem is posted in honor and in on-going loving memory of my brother, Bobby Roggatz, whose short life changed mine forever.