Black

BLACK

My mother weeps. Her face is hid by hands
Adorned in diamonds – but they do not shine.
I’ve never seen her wear all black before.
My father sits beside her, stoic, silent.
His eyes are glistening, but stare straight ahead,
Unblinking, at the sinking cherry wood.
My sister does not cry – she never has –
But sits there with a throat too dumb for words,
Hands twisting in her lap. All else is still.
I try to say a word to break the silence.
My friends are gathered, staring each at each,
Not knowing what to say. They come for duty,
But none of them are crying. No, not one –
Unless I hear one isolated cry
From the only true friend I have ever known.
The silence crushes me. I try to speak.
Can you not see it had to be this way?
Can you not understand the choice I faced
And made? Don’t cry. Please, never weep for me.
Weep out of anger or out of regret
But do not pity me. Feel sorry for
Yourself if you must; do not pity me.
My words fall stiller than the stagnant air
Surrounding us. The image fades to black,
And I am left with nothing.