The body of young boy shields his lifeless friend from sunbeams seas
Warm sun and cold sea breeze
Laid comfortably, on the hammock swing
With closed eyes, no sorrow to bring.
His face displays no grief or fear
Just joy and hope, no shed tear.
"Why does he not breath?" the child inquires, gazing at the lifeless one
"Ölum," the boy's father replies, "If only I'd cut it in time," he implies.
The little one had just begun his life, but fate, unkind, wielded its knife.
Ölum took him, relentless and cold..."
"A creature with a mask instead of a head?"
Father's eyes widened in disbelief, scanning the surroundings in brief.
"Can you see him?" emotions conflicted, the war inside father in deep
Joy in the legacy, but grief depicted indeed.
"That being of gray, a cloud in flight, with a mask for a face, an ominous sight?"
A spark of kindles within that his son continues the ancestral chase
Yet sorrowful for the path he must face.
We must do our job, that is not fun to do
But responsibly one
Thus we must take ...
Come, my boy, help me with this your friend
Into the wheelbarrow, to his final abode
He must make."
-------------
Two days have passed since the little one united with earth.
Yet the images from that moment refuse to depart.
He still envisions the child's body in the snow-white coffin.
The child's parents, too, that carry a story.
Once, the husband and wife stood in a field, quarreling about something mundane.
But then, the now-deceased child ran to them with two beautiful flowers.
Flowers that didn't seem to match initially but were part of the same bloom.
They intertwined in a peculiar and very strange way.
After realizing they were part of the same flower, they no longer looked mismatched.
On the contrary, they complemented each other, appearing finer and better
"One is dad, the other is mom," said the child,
While pointing to the two different flowers that were part of the same.
"So cute"
Still seated on a stump, the boy reflects,
On how others spoke, warm words, circumspect.
Of the little one's dreams and ambitions he said,
Yet, who truly needs them, in this desolate land?
Why do he needs hear thoose buetiful words
If he will never take a break from his grave.
Does the child need to hear those words so kind,
In the realm of the departed, where silence binds?
Does he hear them, amidst eternity's embrace?
Does he desire to, in this tranquil space?
Why do people care when loss befalls,
A loved one gone, within sorrow's walls?
Is it not hypocrisy, this transient care,
When life's harsh truths, we oft unaware?
Yet, despite it all, sorrow persists,
Holding the moment, in its relentless fists.
Those with mere empathy and heartfelt grief,
And those who mourn truly, seeking relief.
The child's mother, tears her only attire,
No moment escapes the sound of her muffled lyre.
Her husband, in silence, only murmurs,
"Darling, darling, darling," emotions in slumbers.
Appearing rugged, emotions concealed,
Yet, not in joy for sorrow unconcealed.
Empty, his gaze, his child is now gone,
Even as his body consoles, his eyes spawn.
Staring out the window, gaze fixed and wide,
Unblinking eyes, where feelings hide.
Images and reflections, a relentless stream,
Thoughts and musings, in the realm of a dream.
The boy takes a deep breath, aims to rise from the stump,
Struggles a bit, massaging his legs, giving a jump.
Shaking them loose, he manages to stand,
Moves towards the little one's resting land.
He picks two diverse flowers by boy's grave,
Tying their ends, a tender tribute he gave.
Placing them gently on the sacred ground,
A floral homage, in silence, profound.
YOU ARE READING
The Pursuit Of Ölum - Book in 30 days
PoetryI will do a challenge where a write my own book in 30 days: Follow me to see my journey: I will write a book and publish chapters everyday here My tag: @TheWriteGuy69 TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@thewriteguy69?_t=8hJUx9CzwFV&_r=1 YouTube: https:...
