It starts somewhere deep in the soul <br />like a growl, <br />and when you find your voice <br />it becomes a scream; <br /> <br />'Oh My God No! ' <br /> <br />Repeated over and over <br />as I fell to my knees, <br />holding myself. <br />Grief so powerful it shakes you <br />to the core, <br />when you lose someone so young. <br /> <br />I'll never forget the first day <br />I sat in the courtroom, <br />knuckles white as I clenched <br />the back of the pew in front of me. <br />Knowing any moment, <br />I would see the face of the man <br />who took my brothers life. <br />His friend and college roommate. <br /> <br />We hadn't even buried Bruce <br />before the first hearing. <br /> <br />The door opened, <br />echo cracked like thunder in my head, <br />hushed voices, <br />a door never sounded so loud before. <br />Nearly stopped breathing <br />as he walked into the room. <br />A boy, not much older than <br />my own sons, <br />in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit. <br /> <br />Everything in that room faded after that. <br />I heard without hearing the proceedings. <br />The bail was set high, <br />we were satisfied <br />with the judge's decision. <br /> <br />Yellow tape will never look quite the same; <br />somewhere in my numbness I found the <br />courage to go to the house <br />escorted by a compassionate police officer. <br /> <br />The tape fell in slow motion. <br />I froze in my steps, <br />not wanting to see the place <br />where my baby brother died.<br /><br />Joyce Chelmo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-day-3/
