First, It Was Santa Claus
stuck and left to perish
in the chimney
of hard science.
Next, the death
of a grandparent,
usually our favorite,
the only one we knew
we could always count on.
And finally, our faith,
the only thing
which sustained us
through all the other losses,
leaving even God
clouded with the problem
of evil; ourselves,
tumbling in the cosmos
like an astronaut
whose lifeline suddenly breaks,
an astronaut
bereft at last
of everything
but the little fictions
chanted by his favorite
grandparent.
Larry D. Thomas
Posted over on Radiant Turnstile
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