A raw and haunting free verse poem exploring vulnerability, silence, public humiliation, and the desperate question: Is there truly any escape from suffering witnessed by the world?
The hawk perched confidently on a branch, surveying its surroundings. A squirrel also stood on the same branch, scurrying to and fro. It darted so near its frantic movements almost brushed the hawk's magnificent golden-brown feathers. The proximity was startling, a testament to the squirrel's reckless nerve and the hawk's unyielding stillness. I'd first thought them friends, but it didn't take long to realize the squirrel was, in fact, taunting the hawk.
As I prepared for Joshua's visitation on February 18, 2022, I felt strongly led to search through his writings. These two poems, written nearly seven years earlier, were the ones I stood and read that evening just feet away from his coffin. Though he could not have known it at the time, his words became part of the farewell shared with family and friends.
