Elegy for Tom

By Eric Redman

Seattle, October 20, 2001

The blackest hour: when you were bright
Upon the scrubs of someone trained
To save you.
Your heart went still,
The first time ever.
And for the first time ever,
Our hearts began to fill
With what it is to lose you.

Oh God, we begged.

We're past that now.
We now pray humbly:
Let us be someone trained,
Be somewhere safe,
The sheltered place
To try to save your life,
To hold and keep your life.

So many times, we couldn't find the words
To tell you what you meant.
Now we have the words,
And need them to find you.
Your principles, your pride and honor
Seemed so much to you,
Great pillars, or foundation:
You stood for something.
Yet we'd have loved you just as much
Without them: we had your touch,
Your laughter on the city breeze,
Your thoughtful words upon a screen
Or on a voice still smiling in our ears
When the light went in along the West
And cast in bold relief the best
Of all the mountain peaks we knew you'd known.

Now we must descend alone.

We miss you in the public life,
The bruit and strife of rich ideas
Contending on the air.
But here is where
We miss you more:
In our arms, and at our door.