a better choice

he's on my mind
the wavering wheels
his held breath then
metal on pavement, the fall
the furious drag and pressure
like a skiing mouse trap
the closed eyes, the stop and
the exit
so sudden, unnatural, unfair.

His friend John lies in bed
holding life unconsciously
a pinned-up pelvis and brain surgery
will save him, but Justin
i can see his body, tall
muscular and athletic, built
to live forever, but mangled
by an unforgiving motorbike
somewhere in India, a missionary
to the lost, an inspiration
to his brothers, he could dunk
a basketball six feet over my head
but nobody said he would die
and leave us all in wonder
i'm a better choice to go, God
i'm not as hard working as he was
as devoted to the Great Commission
i've only been on one mission
to Mexico, where i helped build
some churches and played soccer
with the locals, and drank
a couple bottles of foreign soda
and bough a blanket and hammock
from the local store to stimulate
their faltering economy, and increase
my own standard of living, you see
i've only ever been in it for me
be Justin died in India
because he was serving the Lord
and we couldn't afford to lose him.