Kayla

I stand over her grave, the hole still open, the casket holding her

               Tiny and fierce body still there to see, gleaming and bright in

               A distant sun, as she sails across the black river to Elysium.

               A warm and sunny spring day, life beginning and returning,

               The winter past for another year, and Eden seems so close

               In the forests and by the little rivers, and in the hope for tomorrow.

               Across the world you went, to where the innocents were lost, slain

               And The Devil was so clearly winning, and you, as your Savior said to,

               Fought Those Legions, and pushed back against the dark.

               You were a Lamb, whereas I was not even a Goat, just lost in myself,

               Getting drunk every night, hitting on waitresses and strippers,

               Who put up with it for big tips, knowing a sucker when they saw one.

               I left the fight to you, while I disappeared into my own broken mind.

               And now you are gone, your tiny and fierce body laid to rest, your wild

               And loyal heart stilled, and the dream that was you gone to that other world,

               And I try to remember your voice, your face, the light in your brown eyes.

               I drink straight from a bottle of red wine, can’t go without as my heart breaks,

               And the tears come and shame watches over me, as you always saw so much more,

               So much more in me than I’ve ever been, ever even tried to be.

               And yet, I remember, remember all that I saw you do, a Lamb who comforted

               And fed and visited and stood by and fought for, even in a war torn land,

               For you did not love your life unto the death.

Though you lay in the ground, though you cross a sunless river, you got to eternal spring

               And never ending light, and the presence of love and warmth and peace without end,

               And we all know your name, and we all want to be Lambs like you.

               In my tears, drunkenness and brokenness, I pray that I could be twice like you.

               I pray it, as spring is here and life begins again, and maybe a lost spirit can too.

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