My Dear,
It has been six weeks since you left.
How are you finding heaven?

They say the hardest task in life is
to live only once,
Yet when I replay your songs and laughter,
Your story still remains, in a way
Continuing to live,
Just not you.

I may regret saying this,
But when you left,
Your suffering didn’t disappear, no it
was carried by the world.
That night, you carried a bomb into a room
With us all inside
And burst a hole to the heavens.
Eighty of us attended your funeral, injured and limping.
If you knew, would you still have done it?
Would the weight of that burden paralyse you?
I’m sorry for asking.

Your song will continue to be heard,
But through the voices of others.
How the world misses your voice.

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Related: Ode To a Life