For Clay
From Mrs. Koops
More a kid brother than a student,
You walked into our hearts, hat on in the halls,
Something smart on your lips,
Eyes shooting smiles like fireworks.
More a nagging sister than a teacher,
I put you in your place, gave you ten out of ten
On stories about boyhood, pellet guns and stitches,
(And shared melon lotion for your tattoo, Momma's Boy.)
More a boy than a man,
You were Cassius Clay in the table tennis room,
Every point – back and forth – lived in the moment,
A great win, a great loss.
More a man than a boy,
You read a book set at the time of Christ.
You considered a career in welding.
You accepted a tease happily as you dealt one out.
You walked tall and strong and easy.
More a joy than a sorrow,
Though my eyes weep, my head pounds,
My throat cries, and my words fail,
I know you are more, so much more,
And I thank God for you.
More a kid brother than a student,
You walked into our hearts, hat on in the halls,
Something smart on your lips,
Eyes shooting smiles like fireworks.
More a nagging sister than a teacher,
I put you in your place, gave you ten out of ten
On stories about boyhood, pellet guns and stitches,
(And shared melon lotion for your tattoo, Momma's Boy.)
More a boy than a man,
You were Cassius Clay in the table tennis room,
Every point – back and forth – lived in the moment,
A great win, a great loss.
More a man than a boy,
You read a book set at the time of Christ.
You considered a career in welding.
You accepted a tease happily as you dealt one out.
You walked tall and strong and easy.
More a joy than a sorrow,
Though my eyes weep, my head pounds,
My throat cries, and my words fail,
I know you are more, so much more,
And I thank God for you.
May peace descend upon the family and friends who continue to mourn. I've always liked one of the traditions in our culture (do we do it in Canada?) of stopping for funeral processions in traffic and letting them go through red lights toward the cemetary. Death is a real part of life and we owe people that respect when they are dealing with death. We must mourn with those who mourn. We must.
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