The Healing of Death

This poem is dedicated to a young man I met in Colorado, whose brother had committed suicide. Yet these words are not my own. They are from the heart of a tender child that found herself grieving at the age of fifteen for her brother’s death. I thought it best to illustrate the way the Comforter moves in our children’s heart when they call out for help. The color purple often reminds of joy and beauty, something precious, perhaps the thought of Royalty, our King in robe. Yet such a color, such a King and His children know that all such beauty of heart still suffers the purple bruises of pain we must endure. When we find ourselves looking for answers of comfort for those we have lost, we see our purple bruise so clear. Whatever it is that you are looking for, please find in this poem, that those who go to the heart of God for comfort will never be let down . . . and in following Him in all His ways, is truly the joy of the color purple that awaits. This was brought to you because of the heart of these two children bled. ~ Thank you Wendy . . . For helping Tyler ~

Purple of a Bruise

My life is as purple as a bruise I am not the yellow of sunshine I am not the black of raven I am the purple of a bruise My brothers picked on me when I was little Sometimes they beat up on me Putting bruises on my body I am the purple of those bruises I was an accident prone child I am still that same child I fall and bruise my body I am the purple of those bruises	My emotions do get bruised When I get refused or rejected My mind and soul gets bruised I am the purple of those bruises My brother’s death left a bruise on me A bruise in my heart and soul This is the main bruise I have I am the purple of this bruise Depression can be a bruise As it bruises your view on life This is one of my bruises I am the purple of this bruise By Wendy Malloy
	Amen Michael

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