No Warning

No Warning

Dedicated to the Kazan Crash families
a poem by George Hatcher

No warning.
You were snatched from us.
Mourning snatched the light from our lives.
Our souls full of prayer
yearn for the light of your laughter, your face.
We ache.
Senseless, stricken, weary, lost, disbelieving.

We are parents remembering
little hands,
first steps,
first words,
all the triumphs of your lives,
child to adult,
brought to a standstill.
We are wives,
remembering your arms to hold us,
your strength. Now we must be strong alone.
We are husbands remembering she who will be here no longer,
no face across the breakfast table,
just the empty echo of a memory of yesterday.

We are children,
saying goodbye to the bedrock of our parents,
who were always there,
there no more.
Still waiting at the gate,
dreaming you arrived safely,
but then we wake into the nightmare.

Your memory is all that remains.

We remember you.
We remember you with every breath we take,
with every flower we see waving in the wind,
kissed by dew or mourning light

Heart of Darkness

Heart of Darkness

Dedicated to the Mozambique Crash families
a poem by George Hatcher
These days are nights.
The light is gone.
Sleepless,
rolling on my sleeping mat
but dreams are welcome as you visit me
from the land beyond
where time has stopped

Stopped for you,
but not me.
I get to dream your face
a halo of pure light
surrounding.
I will look for you in the dawn
Your face in the clouds.
Your memory
is these rooms and sky;
these walls.
these trees.
You are everywhere.

Like a shadow cast in gold
Your life surrounds me.
Why, how,
when I can not see
your form,
why, how, are you
everywhere.
Touching me still

…in the heart
The soul
That holds your shape
your memory so dear
so close

Remote but adjacent.
Separate but contiguous
Like sleeping spoons in sleep eternal
Yet I can turn my head and see you there
Still living in the corner of my eye
still beside me
Waiting for sunset.
And another sometime visit
in the land of dreams.

Guiding Light

We Celebrate You

Dedicated to the Nepal Crash families
a poem by George Hatcher

The mountains of Nepal,
the soaring size, the jagged peaks, the alpine glaciers.
They are no taller, no sharper, no colder than our spirits
now that you are gone.
We smile through the pain
the sharp peaks like razors in our soul.
We search for the guiding light.
We are stronger because we love,

and love is never lost.
It is the minted gold that makes life shine.
Life goes on.
We are better having known you,
having had you for a time.

We will, with time, let go of the pain;
but we are forever stronger for having known you.
You are the bedrock that makes us. . .

strong. You are free of pain and strife.
Your voice is in our hearts,
you are every dance, every song, every feast, every prayer.
You are every victory over demons.
You are the good of the world.
The plane may have ended in a mountainside,
but now you are with us always, and everywhere.

The mountain air is crisp and free… and we breathe you in.

We remember and we celebrate your lives.

Storms Pass

Storms Pass

Dedicated to grieving families
a poem by George Hatcher

They say that into every life, rain must fall.
Storms rage, and leave us alone with nowhere to turn,
nowhere to look for help.
But that is an illusion.
Because

…if we look,
when we look,
there is always a guiding light,
whatever you call it.
There is always the silver lining in the clouds,
that something that helps us go on.
Even when we mourn those we lost

…our loved ones are always with us in the light.
In the light of hope,
of life,
of memory.
Every minute shines on,
casting light where there would be shadow.

Shine on.
Shine from your heart.
The source of all hope

…To stand on the mountain of all our yesterdays,
it takes strength to look forward,
to the future.

Darkness

Darkness

Dedicated to the Malaysia Airline Flight MH370 Families
a poem by George Hatcher

Darkness will not overpower us.
Sadness may fall like night
but the sun is not gone.
We know

…we will bridge the trials
through the sadness
through the troubles
cross over them
underfoot
like a bridge from dark to dawn
because…

…morning always comes.
Morning is the promise
that things get better

that the colors will return
that the families will return

And the time will come
to remember

Parade of Days

Parade of Days

Dedicated to the Orland Families
a poem by George Hatcher

Everywhere, cross sea and land,
the sun rises,
the sun sets.
The parade of days
marches on.  Young dreams are dreamt.
Young steps are taken
to grow those dreams.
The young become.

Out of clouds and hope,
they carve
their footsteps.
Follow their footsteps
turn like pages in a book
to become their dreams.
Everywhere
but here.
Here,
time is

frozen here.
They boarded the bus
to their dreams.
And found a nightmare;
so
here they remain.
Frozen…

like dreams,
in time,
they haunt by steps not taken.
footsteps not molded.
footsteps unfollowed.
footsteps up in smoke.
Solemn in curfew from life.
Here
where unfollowed dreams
cloud the air like smoke,

let the broken mend.
Let build.
Let plan
one day to stand, walk, run, fly.

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