I once had a little boy who loved life; who had no boundaries; who could soar through the day; who could gather friends in every yard; who could sit for hours making complicated structures with Lego toys; who could race through books, visiting distant lands; whose smile could melt your heart.

Like all little boys, his days of freedom were destined to end. With age came responsibility and limits, like school and work. Boundaries.

Unfortunately for this little boy, the boundaries came to him before they came to others. First they came in the form of pain, and then confinement.

This little boy loved his freedom, however, so he put up a brave fight. For a short time he was able to conquer the cancer that was putting limits on him. For a short time he was able to break out of the hospital and play baseball again, to slowly soar through the neighborhood, to visit friends again, and even to travel to places like Disneyland.

But soon the power of the cancer cells conquered his freedom and he was once again confined to pain, immobility, and loss of hope.

Before that fatal September 11, 1981, he wrote the above poem, to let his mother know that at last, like the birds, he was free to soar through the sky—to a place where there are no boundaries.

--Charlene Wexler