It was right there…
the tranquility in the cold breeze,
that blew past me.
Numbness ran down through my spine and I know it was it.
Stood there for a while…
Staring at the grave, my grave?
I know I wasn’t dead, but it felt like it,
Or maybe it was the world around me.
Did I wonder… why? why don’t we talk about it?
Death…it’s beautiful in its broken kind of way.
Still, we choose to look away, believing in life but not death.
Even though it is certain, how the thought of it makes us pray.
Pray for life in the heavens even before your death, but still, we choose to look away.
I couldn’t help but ask the breeze that reached out to me through the graves.
So I whispered…
“What is that you hold, so empty yet the heaviness in you makes me sick to my darkest of place.”
An air of melancholy surrounded me, as I thought it might be their buried dreams finding their way to the surface.
As if I could hear them, while they were alive.., running through the forest, with a smile…
fondling over the grasses, chasing stars, gazing skies, dancing in the moonlight.
It’s like I could feel the warmth of their young souls trying to seek out in the night. Once again living it all, once again feeling it all.
So I took a deep breath, like never before, and bid a goodbye to the breeze of their memories.
Hoping that I might live today, for I know one day I would be gone too.
