Jonathan was eight years old when he was taken away

A whole community mourns each day

His disappearance was well over two years ago

Since then time has gone so slow

I think of all the tears that have been shed

When I look over to my big brother’s empty bed

They said, like so many others, Jonathan disappeared on a playground

He went away without a trace or sound

Rumour said that a driver took him away

At eight, he was too young to be a runaway

Posters with Jonathan’s face were posted all over the neighbourhood

People were looking in every corner.  Turned over every rock they could

My father seemed to blame only himself

Staying up late, staring at Jonathan’s picture on the bookshelf

I think he thought that it would bring him back to his family

Until then, the house was to seem all but empty

In my father’s heart there is still a void

Reminders all around that you just could not avoid

With all the upheaval going on around the block

My mother was a rock

Taking the time to console others during this time

I think that she believed that he would be home at anytime

Her days were spent in denial

Dismissing a situation that was so vial

Jonathan’s leaving had an effect on all of us

Having him here was a plus

He was bright and intelligent

Jonathan’s enthusiasm was never bent

A life taken away at such a young age

Over two years later, the rest of us are still in a cage

My father does, occasionally now, show a little life

Sometimes acknowledges that he has a wife

He still has the ball gloves that Jonathan and he used to play catch

Being a father to the rest of us would not be such a stretch

My little sister and I were all but forgotten

Emotions that are now closed may never open

My mother decided that a new edition would replace what was lost

Born the following spring to replace some of the frost

A beautiful little girl

Not a boy.  The disappointment would make your skin curl

I felt bad because it was suppose to be heaven sent

And now she would be treated like a bad replacement

My sister and I have grown, as it seems, in front of now one

We were taken away the same day as their other son

I feel like I should scream

Maybe it would wake us all from a bad dream

My sister and I will never pick up the slack

But Mom and Dad ignoring our growth, will not bring Jonathan back

February 11, 2001

© Andrew Scott – The People Poet 2001