And the day, and the cold fog clinging to my cheeks.
was the day the black cars were waiting
With their headlights glowing,
day the people were treading slowly
From the white and silent chapel.
He was emerging into the vague light of the fog,
Floating silently in his bed of flowers,
pain and memory,
the sounds of his mother weeping.
remember that day,
And the slow moving headlights gliding past my
And the cold damp air dripping
was no sound save the crunch
Of gravel as I stepped, no sight but the white light
Of the covered sun.
could not see his new home.
was no sight of the priest
Hypnotized in prayer,
sight of the mother pleading for a second chance.
sight of the two boys who grabbed him
And beat him until his life gushed out.
remember that day
In November, of 1974, when they found him
Under the bridge
cold as the season’s dirt beneath him,
moment he was made sightless,
moment he was trapped forever
I remember how they found him.
He was sprinkled with sawdust, silent and still.
His skin was white in the light bath
the street lamp.
boys were captured.
They were ten and twelve.
followed his skipping.
followed him quietly,
of his field of vision,
Following the money held tightly in his hands,
the note to the grocer listing
Milk and eggs and bread.
two boys were captured.
found a board.
brought it down
Until Eugene no longer cared.
remember how he turned his head whenever
I was speaking,
he must have thought that
Every word I spoke was truth.
asked me one time
many things are there to know?”
Doubting the answers I could I could give him.
answered him quietly
when I was certain that no one else could hear?
many questions can you ask?”