In the carver’s round there sits an empty stool
and a set of fine tools.
Forgive us all for not knowing
this was your seat, for we longed to welcome you!
I never met you, or knew you at all.
I didn’t expect to feel this sorrow
when I learned you passed, and how they found you
just a child.
So take this wooden spoon I send up in smoke!
May you use it to eat, free of that which consumed you
and caused you to give up the last thing you thought you had
in this mournful May wilderness rain.
Will you use the strength of your ethereal nourishment
to show others considering suicide an earthly sign?
Forgive us for not being there to snap a twig of doubt,
turning you back to find your welcome here in the joyfull round.