Redundant Beauty

"Benjamin never progressed in development beyond a 5½-month-old infant. Benjamin never crawled, fully rolled over, walked, never talked, never fed himself, he never enjoyed a hamburger or an ice cream cone, he could never tell us when he had an itch or anything hurt. When he cried in pain, we as a family and caregivers had to guess as to what was wrong and hope that we could satisfy his need. Benjamin would never know how much he was loved and could never tell others of his love for them."

~ By the parents of Benjamin, Rae and Joe Dowling, in their statement released from the prosecutor’s office following the death of their adult son, Benjamin and their charge of the woman who had shaken him in infancy as reported by The New York Times, July 2021

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Dear Alex,

Benjamin, the name of a thirty-plus-year-old man whose image of manhood was swapped with his baby portrait in a recent article, has died and risen to the infinity of our bleakest questions: why?

With the Benjamins we mingle for most of our juggling lives. He is the babbling one in the scatter of syringes on the road side, his humpback swaying as rocking chair. So too is she a Benjamin, her wheelchair gone at the pop of a corner. To what floor and room will she be taken before her slouch gives way, comes loose, falls from view?

Her silver strand of hair coasts to your sleeve.

If we could cancel Benjamin from our homes and bedrooms, detonate agony and wrath, what might our mornings and midlife look like?

We’d miss the dew and rainbow, beauty redundant in sorrows adrift.

Yours, Kate