“This is Going to Hurt a Little” by Rae Cobbs

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I want to celebrate a friend. I missed
his bash, upset and tired from therapy,
afraid to face his illness with my own.
I wish a poem could reflect the way
he brought his skills to each of us, aware
a person came unguarded underneath
the trust. His office walls bear evidence
of life well met, tranquility. I knew
he didn’t love relentlessly, but found
his shots of Brooklyn Bridge and Shakertown
revealed his dedicated joy. The art
he chose to show his value of the world
endures. His kindness nurtured us, so let
him keep his gift, returned: serenity.

-Rae Cobbs

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