Absences

Anchors

Anchors

A few months have passed and I am walking

Along the same dusty path again.

This time, it's to accompany

My brother's best friend to his grave.

The mango trees are as grand

As they were last time

Still bearing fruit.

The heavens are all white now.

I can't distinguish the clouds from the sky.

We pass through the maze of tombstones.

The ground is still damp from the recent rain.

I hear my brother weeping softly beside me

So I begin to cry too.

I can't stop my tears.

I always thought that

They would both stay friends

Until they reached senility.

My heart grows heavier

With each step.

It feels like an anchor

Dragging me

Under

Slowing me

Down.

My mind goes back to the church

Replaying the eulogies.

I'm touched by all the stories people have told.

My heart breaks for his own brother

Standing at the pedestal

With his head in his hands

At a loss for words.

I couldn't bear it.

When he broke down crying

Everyone else did too.

My mind goes back to the funeral home

Where his mother held a framed photo of his in her hands

Posing for a photo with the family.

He should have been there

Standing with them.

No, there should never have been

Any need to take that photo at all.

They lay him down, finally

Beside his father inside a small mausoleum.

And we say our goodbyes after they seal his tomb.

We walk away.

We part ways with wet eyelashes.

He's gone.