|
|
Just for a while, when I was staring into the night, I thought of you and something in my chest slipped a little closer to the dark side of my eyes.
And in that moment, when things were just at a place, a resting spot that appears comma-like in it's intensity of pause, I remembered that shining morning in the summer sun.
Two alone, with laughter to float between us, an emerald sea out past the turquoise shallows, and without a worry of anything each other might do, say or play.
Into this vision, this childhood's blissfully ignorant milieu, a weight of led, like a comet burning brightly in the sky, moving yet still, welled up and crashed over us. They were three little words, but with so much behind them that their size dwarfed us both and the beach and the ocean and the ocean of stars hidden behind the sun's rays above.
Three little words that, in half remembered context, half forgotten subtext, were more potent than any ever spoken, and yet in ways I couldn't, wouldn't and didn't understand. The times were young, but they were hard too, and in such a state I listened to them, listened to you.
And in an instant, you were gone. The beach and sky and stars were all empty places, forelorn of the graces of our smiling faces. It was into all of this that I poured myself from, and into a mold of iron and anger and stiff upper lip. Twenty years would pass before I again could relive that day, that hated, adored moment of bitter bittersweet and all to insistent reality.
And then, one fine morning, many years too soon, I find that there's no room upon the hill. And again I find my gaze traveling over the distant mountains of the moon, despising it's dark side as I have embraced my own.
You're silence is permanent now, echoed by a plinth of stone and a piece of hallowed earth. But the chimare, the dream-scape, the memory of a time before will haunt me, as you do not, until my own internment in the villiage of the past. I will not willingly join you early, my own race still a long path from done.
But now I understand. What we lost, what we found, what we never even knew existed beneath the skin of what we knew before. And in that I am both upset and comforted by the fact that we never had much more than just friendship and trust. Because what I do feel would be much worse now that you are gone.
Thank you, Kenny, for having been my friend, my confidant and my inspiration when we were young, and for being the hero you were while you lived, and for dying as nobly as you lived. If only we all had that courage. Rest now, my friend, your labours are done.
It's not the wolf you see you should fear, but all the ones he howls with. Don't be afraid of the song, but don't piss off the choir.
|
] 
A Place of Safety
Search
Help
Register
Login
Home
Tribute to a fallen friend and an innocent hope....A poem 
