Roots and Echoes

I hate the arbitration of rules

that aren’t solely arbitrary.

I struggle with the grief

that fills the back of my throat

and makes it sting.

Tears welling up in my eyes

as I try to find the words

to put to the feelings swelling inside of me.

I can feel the cool tears

sliding down my cheek

and dropping onto my shirt.

Missing you comes with shame,

shame for the way I feel,

shame for the way I still hurt

this far from saying goodbye.

There’s something beautiful

about loving beyond expectation,

and also something that stirs up

feeling like an outsider.

There’s something beautiful in it,

but also something deeply painful

about care that’s carried alone.

About admiration for someone

you can no longer know,

about thankfulness you can’t extend,

about never being able to be friends,

about crying in the middle of the night,

hoping for the pain to soften with new light,

but never wanting to let go

of a presence that taught you how to grow.

Never wanting to say goodbye

to someone who changed the course of your life

who gave you someone to look up to,

who showed you care you’d never gotten in your youth,

care so gentle you could hardly believe its truth.

And so now he sits here late at night,

reliving memories kept in his mind,

crying and knowing that sometimes

the world isn’t fair,

but grateful, still,

for the time shared.