People cry around me as I stand in front of three graves.
And on my face too, there are tears.
But I weep, not for the dead, but rather,
For the living.
For those who have been left behind.
I am looking ahead of me, at a young man
Standing quite still.
I know he is young in years,
And yet his hair is flecked with gray,
And no man can stay young inside, after seeing what he has seen,
Or losing what he has lost.
He does not look like a man who is burying three friends.
But of course, he is not.
For I know, that in his mind, he buries four.
And though one may stay above the surface of the earth,
That is the one who will be put the furthest down
In his heart.
I yearn to tell him that someone buried in that manner
Will only hurt him more, if ever he needs to unearth him.
People turn to go, and we are alone.
I’m standing before him, though neither of us acknowledges the other’s presence.
And now I see it- a tear like a pearl, glistening on his cheek.
And just as a single raindrop can be felt more than a storm,
So this solitary tear is sadder than a flood would be.
For I know this is all he will allow himself.
He wants to be as brave as they were, to be just as loyal.
And so a single tear is the only hint he will give
That he has just lost
Everything.
I want to reach out and comfort him.
I see in him
The little boy on a stool yearning to be accepted,
The teenager with his friends, in a world of their own,
And a young man leaving school with four others; eager to set off on new adventures.
As I look at his lonely figure, I wonder who he will be
When I see him next.
I walk over to him, and murmur ‘It’s over’
For I am not sure he had noticed the others leave.
His face turns to mine, and I see a flicker of understanding, and of pain.
He knows what I truly meant.
He knows that an era is over.
And though for many it was an era of sadness and war,
For him it was a time of great happiness as well.
He slowly turns and walks away from the graves,
From his friends,
From his life.
He turns his back from his friends, and so
I weep for the living.
Tears fall from my eyes, because I know that he wishes he could be with them,
Even if it meant that this would be his funeral as well.
I weep for the living, because he feels that he has
Nothing left to live for.
A/N Many thanks again to the nutty imp for beta-ing this!
Please review (with constructive criticism) to let me know what you thought!