by Melanie Dorsey
A box cannot contain my love for you nor who you are.
Not any kind of box.
Not the ones that will store clothes and toys and boy stuff.
Not the one that holds a jar of clay in a place it hurts to see your name.
Andrew C. Dorsey.
It seems so wrong.
It hurts so much.
Listen to my heart.
The place where names are eternal,
That’s where your name belongs and is.
In a book, not on a box .
In a book, not on a name plate under the red flowers.
In a book, the Lamb’s Book,
Where Eternal Life has signed your name.
Andrew Christopher Dorsey
(photograph by Linda Charlene)
The UPS man just came. Only 2 labels. So one box left here. Thank you for praying. It was hard. I told the man. I cried. He said he was sorry. Me, too.