on seeing her picture, for the first time

I see her picture now,
I felt her presence then.

She lived but a short life.
A life that made such a difference,

Why she died we know not now,
How she died is more apparent,

But the influence she left
And the difference she made,
How then do we measure?

She was the topic of conversation,
For years, though often unsaid.

I would visit her father on weekends.

He was helping me to become a man.

She had helped him to become a man.

Her death had transformed him,
And now he would transform other lives.

Her death would ripple down, through time,
To transform many lives,
To train a generation of leaders, in this life.

I am not foolish enough to believe God wanted this.
I could not worship a god who was so cruel.
He did choose to use her loss,
To create a gain, and now my life,
Is transformed by her loss