Up against the wall

26/5/20

I can feel the fire from the funeral pyre in front of me. Its cold, not bitter, but frosted, Its calm. I hope she is at peace now wherever she resides. I hope she knows I'm stood here, celebrating her life's work in what she would no doubt consider the most poetic way. They finally found how to get to her, my little sister. She was like the winter sun, but I'm the only one left that would know that... Everyone was scared of her, every damn person. They never understood the gift she was trying to give them. She fell in love with a man who would dream only of waking up. She would visit his bed side everyday just so that she could calm his dreams, even if only for a few minutes. The flames in front of me are growing higher and colder. I wish anyone else was here to see what she's creating even in her passing. I wish the man she loved could have looked twice but once he woke up that was it. He wanted nothing from her. He killed her the second he recognised her. The man who she loved killed my sister. I guess death waits for no one, not even herself.

The fire in front of me has died out leaving nothing but a pattern in the ashes. Death was the one that delivered peace to those who had finally earned it, I guess her work payed of and she got committed to peace as well. My sister death now sits as ash.