It’s the words you never want to hear

Murder, Young Dad, Seattle

You didn’t hear

But as the words go on

Central District, Postman suddenly 

That young man becomes oh no not that young man, no

Until all you are full of is a hollow grief 

You cannot hold

And the memory of that day 

When that kind young man with a bounding spirit 

Helped you move forward in your time of need

It was January 2020

The first COVID case in the news

And the moving van stuck in a snowstorm

When I’d flown in to pick up my 37 boxes 

I’d left behind in a friends garage

Since the moving van wasn’t arriving 

And I didn’t want to leave this problem behind 

I heard about the Postman just down the street 

Wondered if he could help

We can do this, he said

And box after box D’vonne and KeAnna 

Helped me ship and weigh with care 

Send off to my new home on another coast

Weeks later the boxes went to the basement 

Vowing I’d someday sort through them  

A day that did not come until weeks before I left that place

As there were so many other things to do

I’d rather do

Than look through boxes

In this terrible time, in these heartbroken days

For all who love you

I light a candle for you, D’vonne

For that meeting in time

Your kindness in a storm

Your making a way when there was no way 

Years later, I went to the basement

Pulled out the boxes

Remembered, grieved, gave thanks

Emptied the boxes 

And found in the emptying 

A breath of air 

I never could have imagined was there

For a new beginning

Thank you, D’vonne.  Thank you. 

One thought on “D’vonne”

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