Residue of Autumn rust
On near-bare trees
November mourners
Gaze at the opposite
Shore of the quiet lake
Pondering what was witnessed
There by God's creation
The lonely ending
A wounded beautiful life
Pushed beyond the edge
Of no return
Into the deep emptiness
Denied the right to love
And see and touch
To hear and hold
His one Beloved Child
And in the cold
Dark stillness of the dawn
We are left with unanswerable
Questions, unspeakable
Loss
But this I know
That God is close
To the broken hearted
And always sends his Angel
To attend to the Gethsemane
Of our lives
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