(Jose Medina was killed in a hit and run accident that I was at the scene of. He was working his first day as a valet at a club I was security for. I held his hand as he lay in the street waiting for medical arrival. He passed and at the funeral, his Mom, in her grief asked me why I didn't protect her baby. This is a bit of penance...
There is now a law in CO establishing a program for people to track and report hit and run offenders - called the Medina Law)
Death is a test
A test we all pass...
Death is a test-
We all must surely pass
Its testimony in
Heartache
Its memory recorded
In the incredulity
Of shivering witnesses
Its Truth
Etched on the cheeks
Of desperate mothers
Death is a pass
A roadway
A doorway
That proclaims the life and love
Of Jose -
-Medina...
Same last name as the city
That burst forth my religion
Where angels treaded daily
Angels who witness
Who push and cajol us
Who hope for us
Who cry for and frown on us
Who laugh with and aid us
Who on a winter's Saturday
Were informed about
A valet
Whose job was in chivalry
A knight
A noble escort
Whose turn it now was to be
Treated in kind
To be kindly treated...
His exit deliberately violent?
A protest of this life's cruelty
A protest...
A warrior's rejection of Hell on Earth
Jose was not "there"
On the ground...
In the street
Not for long...
He only looked around
For his loved ones
His friends -
To squeeze my hand
To say, "It's ok...I am the %&$# outta here"
And the angels beckoned him
And picked him up
Telling him, whispering:
"Let us park your car instead"
"Let us hold your door open instead"
"Let our outstretched wings...
...point you back home"
Where you can see God
Where your soul-
Having passed it's test -
Is long last at rest...
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