The trade of your youth for rain on a bitter sidewalk
was the loss of every story told.
You were my friend, I always thought that we were leaving together.
But today the dove was the court of promises, the tears of the sentence in repose for light.
We found a way to laugh today, to touch your mother's hand, and to speak of the grey light of the redeemed.
I believe your sister, with black of eyes, that she is broken but doing fine.
Twenty seven years was not long enough for us.
The river was showing it's roots and only you were there to hold them.
The rain was the truth, but we are not saved as you rest.
With prayer card torn in four, bitter prayers to a forgiving stone,
I thought about your love for the sea.
I thought about coal and the bird that breathes the deathly air,
I thought about the river and wondered of the sea.
Time never wore away your wonder,
It never took from you the love that you gave away.
Until the rains on a sunday, reached through the concreted skies, for to deliver something pure.
Your Mother is as beautiful as I remember,
She is thinking only of love today.
I held her hand, we smiled through tears, and spoke gently of how your
heart of spring would have wanted this.
Goodbye my Friend.
Sunday, April.
I am so sorry for your loss, Epurcelly. You've shared with us your deeply heartfelt and eloquent tribute to your friend. Thank you for doing so. You have captured the nature of the so-difficult feelings, at times of loss, that are also so difficult to describe. You clearly cared so much for this person whose life has gone, and who brought so much to the world while here.
Love,
Elizabeth
Love,
Elizabeth