By Her Leaving

She tripped on steep cement stairs,

but her father snatched her

before she hit ground; still

she sobbed with the fright

of it; mother ran, face bears

fear as well, knowing how quickly

death snatches those we love, spills

life like a profligate until bright

dims to dark and we're left there

bereft where love once was, and it thickly

weaves webs to entrap when a moment ago

life danced patterns to fill our nights

with stories, embed memories that dare

to endure, be told as family lore that will

define us, but surely not as having lost this child, though

another babe left long ago, and us marked by her leaving;

she, etched in heart and mind as we transfer

pain to medicine, to somehow move when death stills

that opened place meant for this dear one, slight

light slants through the lattice of loss by her leaving.

This is posted in response by Gay Reiser Cannon over at dVerse Poets Pub who introduced us to David James who has devised Karousels and Weaves to challenge and expand our poetic options. This is a Karousel. Check it out, it's a great article that can take you in new directions. It certainly did me.