Curious chorister boys&girls
grieve
an empty place up front.
Dark or tow-haired once-fresh faces
weep.
We hear their yearning and want
to respond
yet hold our tongues.
We have no words.

Newspapers cop another
cold statistic.
"Yes," reporters terse intone,
"It’s just a tale of senseless L.A. terror."
But does that say his story,
even half?
"Why?" in sharp-edged stillness,
others ask.

His endless, soaring, praising preludes
reached
for pinnacles
few of us can even dream.
His gentle touch and loving song
surround us still.

The keyboard’s ever-rising cantilena
no one here can silence.
It never mattered why he left.
One thing is sure:
We won’t forget.
Now and forever
David sings anew.

Undiscouraged,
we who stay behind,
remembering,
lift
our hearts in hope.
We raise clear voices
bold
to sing with him.

*This poem was written a few years back in honor of a locally famous Episcopal church organist who died in a tragic gay-bashing event. Davido, vivas in Deo!  --R.