As a teenager
I was molested in the seminary,
a few weeks after I left that place
my older brother who was helping
me adjust to the real world
was killed by the careless driving
of someone else, when i dream
of that time it’s always dark
i could go on 
about my father dying in my arms
or my beloved younger brother
losing his fight with aids or my
wife running off with the fire chief
after twenty years of marriage
or my nephew, the writer Jude Lally,
with a degenerative muscle disease
that’s robbing him of his mobility,
but you have your own story
and there’s a 99% chance 
it’s worse than mine
There’s never been a shortage
of suffering in the world
but we are the lucky ones
having time to write a poem 
everyday and the means 
to put it out into the world