The Five Stages (Elizabeth Kubler Ross) Poem by dave lessard

I couldn't accept the fact
my son was dead
he was but a child of five
don't tell me he's gone
that he has died
how can I picture him as
anything but alive!
Whose fault was this to let
such a thing happen?
not mine; you left me
thirty days ago
and now you tell me that
his death means nothing!
how would you, in your
vast wisdom know?
I told God that I would
change my ways
if He would let my son live
but you can't bargain with
the great God Almighty
no matter how you moan and cry.
I have nothing left to
hold on to and subsist
why must I go on working
eating and sleeping?
the waters that covered him
might as well covered me
he'll not come back regardless
of how much my soul weeps.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll see him
after I too, am gone
there's the hope of resurrection
the Good Book claims
He'll be as I last
remembered him
a lad of five, and I'll
stroll with him in
fields of glory
on that sweet expectant day.