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Eulogy for Rosie
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A New Hope Generation
Life prevails on dawn’s horizon as a bold globe shows bright in early spring,
a season different from the last, yet unique with character anew.
Robins frolic in underbrush rich with budding pedicels and vernal moss
encompassing broken stems and winter’s fallen crossed trees.
Brownsville fits its name in spirit, but the flowers still bloom
bobbing their stamens in sorrow, bowing pedals in reverence to time.
A terrible beauty arises as we remember last spring’s rain,
then sunshine came to remind us we’d carry on again.
In New York City Autumn she was vivid in voice and heart;
we bought goobers, sodas for all and she tucked them under her jacket.
The theater was warm, and the usher was suspicious of our swagger
to our seats where she produced the edibles and we laughed at the curtain.
Trailers then the main feature, a Sixth Sense shivered our spines
When the ghosts flew past and the boy cried for an end to the divine.
Not ten minutes into showtime and she laughed at the sublime,
a haughty couple in the row ahead who shushed our conversation behind.
Credits rise, we arose, and another movie let us go
to the street where we said farewell and flagged taxis at evening’s end.
“Keep your happiness,” she said, and I nearly ignored such common words
said to those who we love, those who we cherish--it becomes familial lore.
Do the good die young? Look at summer, fall, winter and spring--the cycle again,
lest we forget the lessons she gave, the smile she had, her understanding for rain.
She knew the cycle of it all, the vicious and harmonious paradox
that carries the eternal flame of a new hope generation.
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In memory of Rosie – March 27, 2000
-Richard Aaron
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