On her finger,
She wears two rings.
One's for Conner,
The other's for me.
They hold her to earth,
Like an anchor in sea.
They contain all the thoughts
Of what could've been.
When two souls leave the earth,
They take not only theirs
But pieces of hearts
Of who loved them and cared.
So on her finger,
She wears two rings.
One's for Conner,
The others for me.
They try to make up
For the heart that she lost
For young deaths of friends
Come at quite a cost.
April Thirteenth, 2016, I lost a fellow sixth grade student, Conner. That was bad enough, and I didn't even know him personally. On December Thirteenth, 2016, I lost a friend. And that was even harder.
I wrote it from my friend's perspective in a vain attempt to have another piece of him. We like to think that there's ways to replace and forget and start anew, but there's not. You can't replace them, you can't forget them. They've changed your life, and things will never be the same as they would have been otherwise.
What would life be without losses? Easier. Happier. But hardship creates diamonds of coal, and you, my friend, I suspect have at least a little diamond in you.
But we don't want to acknowledge that it's "just part of life," so we try to replace and refill the absent parts of our hearts that they took with them.
But nothing,
Nothing,
Is big enough.
YOU ARE READING
Translation
PoetryThere are days where I get so confused or befuddled that my thoughts all come out in puddles, raining backwards and forewords, sideways and upways I pick up a pen and I pick up a notebook and when I'm done the whole world looks A little brighter...
