Three Strikes

For Michael Thomas Cunningham (1967-2005)

When you took ill
I prayed for you.
Every day I prayed.
Three times a day:
Morning, noon and night
I begged for God’s mercy;
Begged for a miracle

But the time for prayer is passed
Mourning is now here.
Enriched by your memory,
Wounded by your absence.
Nothing will bring you back,
Your miracles are spent.

The path you walk
I will one day follow,
But you can never follow it
Back to me.