Hope For Little Brothers

I grew up as a little brother in a small quiet town in Northwest Ohio. We grew like the fields of wheat, corn, and soy beans that littered the landscape all around. We learned about life by playing in the creek bed, riding our bicycles from dawn till dusk. We found simple pleasures in games of kick the can, fox, and geese, and basketball on Saturday nights. We made friends for life, became neighbors in faith, and knew the value of loving one another as an unconditional fact of God's grace. And we were big brothers, and sisters too just as those who had come before us for countless generations. We were descendants of immigrants from far, and wide, and we kept our traditions close to our hearts, and still do. And so I pay tribute to one particular little brother I knew, and who now rests in quiet repose amongst the angels; gone, but never forgotten.

Hope For Little Brother
(For Mikey)

He entered life
Blonde hair
Blue eyed
Without despair
With family beside
Played in green fields
Dug in the dirt
Like any boy does
Made many friends
Went to school
Learned a skill
Lived on a whim
Drove the fast lane
Pushed limits
Fell many times
Got back up
Found love to be fleeting
Kindness unyielding
And all the while
There was hope
For little brother
He like no other
Determined to rise
Above the fire
And experienced
That life prevails
In spite of himself
But in the end
He faded quietly
Clinging to faith
 His mother's embrace
Touched the face
Of God eternal
Rest in peace
With the angels
We remember
That hope remains
For little brother.

D.A. Wittler 17'