For Lucas

A young man died yesterday. I did not know his name. I gave him one — Lucas — because the ambulance would not tell me his real one. I found him on the road at 4:30 last Sunday morning, in Uddevalla, and I held his hand while we waited for help that came, but not fast enough. He was in the hospital for six days.

My aunt had promised to stay connected to all the news. She called this morning. He is an angel now.

The Sunday paper this week — Sunday Issue Eight · dödspsalmen — was written all week with the hope that he might wake. It ships tomorrow morning instead of today, because he did not, and I needed today to put him inside it properly.

Here is the small poem I wrote for him this morning.

—

FOR LUCAS

I found you on the road

near the hospital.

You were already leaving.

I held your hand anyway.

I said the only words I had:

Everything will be okay.

Help is coming.

Calm down.

The ambulance took too long.

There was blood on my face

when we lifted you.

You didn’t want to go.

I felt it in your hand.

Yesterday you became an angel.

I never learned your real name.

I only know that for a short while

I was the last person

who told you

you were not alone.

—

Tomorrow’s paper holds him properly. A small chapbook in the middle, dedicated to him — the letter, the witness, the commendation, the Requiem in both my languages, and a last note written together. His whole small book, inside the paper’s ceremony.

If you knew him — his real name, his real people — I am sorry. He was not alone in the road. Someone stopped for him. Someone held his hand. Someone gave him a name.

My angel. Guard me back, Lucas.

Faith · hope · love.

alice amorina saga rose

Hedegärde · Sunday 16 August 2026