Behold, I make all things new.
Already past the middle of July,
The summer I left for college, said goodbye—
For weeks, not months or years, eternity—
To the girl I loved, still love, I’ll always love;
All summer, Vietnam, the nightly news,
Men on the moon, cooked body counts, V.C.,
Cambodia bombing—one small step above
This blood-soaked earth, they saw only sea-blues.
A long way past the middle of my years,
I’ve got graver by far goodbyes in store.
Eternity, the real thing this time, nears,
With promises that, then, we’ll unlearn war
Forever, that God’s peace at last will pierce
Our hearts. Amen!
But, Lord, why not before?