thirty years grudge
by Len Freeman
he bought his wife a
red MG for valentine’s one year
and the next he shot himself
and I had to identify the pieces
of what was left
of his head and his face
laying on its side
like a flattened blond flour sack
that I had to tell his family about
but not what I saw.
six months later his two year old
took my hand and asked me
why did you take my daddy away.
thirty years on and I still wonder
what was that stupid sonovabitch
About the Author
Len Freeman, a veteran religious journalist, has lived a fairly rich experiential life —from being a chaplain at San Quentin prison, to a bodyguard for MLK Jr in a Boston civil-rights parade, to dealing with suicides, murders, new babies, old grandmothers, and all the joys and pains in between across the socio-economic spectrum. In addition to awards for his writing and television work, he was head of communications for Washington National Cathedral and Trinity Church Wall Street in New York.