A Mask Too Heavy

I’m so sorry that happened to you

all those moons ago.

***

I remember so vividly,

us as children,

playing in your room,

laughing,

not a care in the world.

Your Dad appeared

and whisked you away,

said you needed to talk.

***

You were gone so long,

we waited and waited.

***

In the other room,

Your parents announced

they were getting a divorce.

Your Mum was moving away.

You were forced to make a choice.

Who to live with?

***

Your gentle heart

chose your Mum.

You wanted to help

with your baby brother.

***

Before your return,

you were given a mask to wear.

A fight broke out with your brother; he struck you —

they told you to say.

***

Bravely, you put on your mask,

and walked back down the hall.

***

You were just a boy,

too young for a veil so heavy.

Your mask began to crack under the pressure.

As you entered the room,

fragments of it

crumbled away,

dust upon your hands.

You collapsed in a heap

and told us the news.

***

Years later, I asked,

Why didn't they just wait until we were gone?

Behind a grim smile,

your reply — so simple, yet so sad,

You can't put brains in statues.

***

I'm so sorry that happened to you.

all those moons ago.