A poem, from Cynthia Lamanna’s son, to his cousin


From Elijah Plummer:

In your childhood we played in the yard
“Paradise” was no further than the fence line
It was our canvas of joy upon which we painted
All the colors of loves imagination.Afterwards, years later, when that love
had learned the pain of distance, i
found my way back into that yard.

the “loquatz” tree was full as usual and
the “stone fire put” looked ever so lonely
nothin had changed except that YOU
were not there. And because of that
not the sunlight and fresh air, not the
singing birds nor garden scents
could remove the shadow from my heart;
i cried…

Paraphrased from Cynthia’s description of this piece:

Cynthia’s son Elijah wrote this for his cousin Bethany, who was like a little sister to him. He would go stay with the family nearly every weekend for several years before he passed away at age twenty-six.

Though he wrote many sad poems, he lived with passion and purpose. Psychology fascinated him, and he may have been somewhere on the autistic spectrum. He was a beautiful soul, and I am honored to share this piece of his with you.

Cynthia Lamanna may be reached at cynthialamanna@yahoo.com