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Griffen
One year ago,
I heard the news,
"Dead," they said,
no sorrow in their voice,
"A hit and run,
Left sinking into the waves,
Dead before or drowned?
No one knows."
Eight days,
it took,
searching beneath the waves,
Eight days of disbelief.
Eight days for the news
To seep into my soul.
Then they found it,
The body,
Attached to the lake bottom
By long green tendrils.
They acted happy,
To find the proof.
Finally I realized,
That it wasn't a mistake.
The funeral, caskets closed.
Two coffins, two bodies,
Both too small,
Both too young,
Tears won't come,
They did before,
But now,
Surrounded by sorrow,
I am a marble statue,
A still sea,
Or a lake,
Like the one,
The one that caused these tears,
No one knows,
How close we were,
We didn't talk so much.
No one knows,
How much I loved him,
How he broke his arm,
Catching me,
Keeping me unharmed,
As I fell from that tree.
Did he remember that?
Remember how,
Years later,
I can't forget,
How he held his tears,
So I wouldn't be scared.
I remember,
Even if he didn't-
Doesn't-
And the tears come.
I hid my face,
Cried into my black dress,
Didn't look at the picture of him,
And the other,
His little brother,
Both gone,
Too young.
One year ago,
A part of me died,
Along with Griffen Prince.
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This article has 1 comment.
Unus annus abhinc,
Ego autem, audito hoc verbo,
"Mortuus est," inquit,
dolor in consilio eorum,
"A et currunt,
Et ibi considere in fluctibus,
Et mortuus est ante submersa?
Et nemo scit. "
Dies octo,
cepit eam,
quaerere inter fluctus aperit;
Octo dies infidelitas.
Si ab octo diebus nuntius
Ut in animo excipiant.
Et civitatem et invenissent eam,
Quod corpus,
Aliquam in lacus ut fundum
Patientia viridi propagines.
Et bene fecisse,
Quod ut probemus.
Deinde visus sum,
Quod non fuit conveniens.
Est in manibus, matis ante.
Coopercula, duo, duo corpora,
Tum etiam parva,
Tum puer,
Et lacrimis, et non venit,
Et hoc est,
Nunc autem,
Etenim cum dolor,
Ego sum, marmore,
Adhuc maris,
Nec acceperunt caracterem bestiæ,
Ut unum,
Ille, qui has lacrimas,
Et nemo scit,
Quam prope esset,
Non tam multa loquuntur.
Et nemo scit,
Quam amari,
Quam brachium contrivit,
Conspicatus mihi,
mihi tenere in pace,
Et cecidi ex arbore.
Memento quod et ipse fecit?
Memento,
Post annis,
Ego autem non possunt,
Quam tenebat in lacrimis,
Non ego vix.
Memini,
Et si-didn't
Doesn't,
Et lacrymæ.
Abscondi a te faciem meam,
Clamavit in nigro amictu,
Et non suspexistis ad eum, imago,
Et alia,
Frater eius,
Et abiit,
Praesent pellentesque.
Unus annus abhinc,
A parte mihi est,
Cum principe gryphi. Thanks for reading!
