The Sun Dared To Rise

There were no skid marks

Your pregnant wife’s car, slammed into a soybean field
She and your youngest son, taken

But not to vacation bible school


Your son who liked to draw on his bedpost with his red and blue markers

Took two more days to die

Your firstborn, the first baby you’d ever held and the one you had the most nicknames for

Took one day more…

The thread cut forever from right-angled reality

Life would be a bloodshot blur

The sun dared to rise the next day?

Rays illuminating

You at once had no family.

I saw your face through the haze

Numb through the candlelit procession

You didn’t want to hear their songs of sad hope

You wanted to be assassinated

And God to be too, right along with you

I turned away from your rage then

To leave you in your lonely war

But you recognized my battle and said, “Wait.”

Your eyes became young again

Brought back to when they beheld guitar tabs and differential equations

I carried my old violin case hand painted with glitter nail polish.

We took different forms so we could listen

Without distraction of elegiac pain

We spoke with our eyes and by how we harmonized to each other’s verses

You fell in love with your wife again, mid-song

And children’s laughter fell upon us like percussive twinkling bells

This is where you would dwell.

In your life, they live.

They live!

No one would deprive them of life

Once more.

You glimpsed your future during the bridge

Over the years exhaustion would come over you and you’d collapse under the splintery beams

Those last few moments of breath

Would be the only respite since before that fateful day

But you watched the moments themselves stretch

Blanketing the years of loneliness working ninety-hour weeks and tending to your rose bushes under the moon;

And extending beyond the spheres of purgatorial earth:

Its soil and its sproutings

Its storms and its stillness.

The final refrain

You breathed and you sighed,

Clutching the climactic note for longer than the measure

Then surrendering it to silence

You sighed and you breathed

And you breathed


2017, Amaya Engleking



  1. my valiant soul · 11 Days Ago

    Wow! Intense work.Loved the dark imagery.

  2. braveandrecklessblog · 11 Days Ago

    What an ache. Beautifully written and so very poignant

    • Gospel Isosceles · 11 Days Ago

      Yes, an ache. This family will be held in my heart for a long time. Thank you for your comment.

  3. Cheryl Ruffing · 11 Days Ago

    Yikes! You’ve done a beautiful job of tearing my heart open.

    • Gospel Isosceles · 11 Days Ago

      It is terribly sad what this man is going through. I keep having dreams about him and this poem was inspired by one of them.

  4. den169 · 11 Days Ago

    So powerfully poignant!!

    • Gospel Isosceles · 11 Days Ago

      I’ve never yet had to deal with true grief and heartbreak. I guess this is a little of what I imagine it’s like.

  5. Harry Miller · 11 Days Ago


  6. qbit · 10 Days Ago

    That is so powerful. And “The thread cut forever from right-angled reality” is an amazing line.

    • Gospel Isosceles · 10 Days Ago

      It seems weird to write something based off the pain of someone else. I just can’t get him out of my mind. Maybe I can take just a tiny fraction off his shoulders…

  7. Imelda · 10 Days Ago

    Ooh, so poignant and well-written.

  8. oldepunk · 10 Days Ago

    Sadly beautiful Amaya. My prayers go out to this man🙏

  9. Mary Brearley · 9 Days Ago

    That’s powerful and dark!

  10. saynotoclowns · 5 Days Ago

    This is gorgeous and utterly devastating. My sincerest condolences to your friend!

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