Cold, hard, polished steel reflects teeming life, cutting behind me, smooth as a knife. Two laugh in a memory, sweet and bitter. Witnesses utter empty whispers. Teared eyes drop, all time stops. A blurred face weeps, it’s me.
Weathered hands glide across the tranquil shell, shielding my child from my turbulence, a roaring river cast off a cliff in the wild. I plead for peace and for the pain to cease. Turn back the clock. Abate the shock.
Once a warm touch, a strong embrace, now six feet down, you’re displaced, into the ground. Silence within, without, hammering your shroud, billowing shadows become black clouds. Silvered lightning flies, flashing toward the starlit skies, transcending eternity. My hand outstretched, up and lost, in farewell to your sarcophagus, imprisoned in unconsciousness.
I feel no more, but smooth cold steel and within my soul remembrances feel. They soothe and warm, yet daily bring their dagger twists, life’s jagged stings. Your best friend marries, I’m happy, sad. Their first born comes, I’m envious, glad. What blessings would you have known?What could have been, if you had grown?
Cold, hard, polished steel reflects teeming life, cutting behind me, smooth as a knife.
About the Creator
J. S. Wade
Since reading Tolkien in Middle school, I have been fascinated with creating, reading, and hearing art through story’s and music. I am a perpetual student of writing and life.
J. S. Wade owns all work contained here.
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