Memory Poem #3

It was a beautiful day

set aside

for us.

To exercise our bodies

and celebrate our bond.

With high ambitions

and detailed plans,

nothing could hinder us.

Or so we thought,

as we meandered along

chatting and laughing,

contemplating and discussing,

stopping by a mulberry tree

to sample the sweet delicacy

before moving forward

on our arduous adventure.

Fresh and ready for a feat

nothing prepared us

for the turn of a corner

and a sprawled figure.

You were concerned.

A roller-blader

seemed non-plussed

by the figure’s presence

they passed

fifteen precious minutes

ago.

We moved forward with

Sir

And

Hello

And

Are you okay

And

He’s not responding.

dropping to my knees

removing his helmet and glasses

feeling for a pulse

listening for breathe.

And

I don’t hear or feel anything

And

Is he dead?

And

I have to try.

I lift the chin

I breathe into a lifeless gurgle

I compress the chest

the snaps and tears of shattered bones.

You call for help.

Then you join.

And others join.

And others have stories.

But nothing changes the fact:

he’s dead.

I remember

mounting our bikes

and continuing forward

with tearless eyes,

heavy hearts

and a devastating,

yet irreplaceable

moment.

Tragedy bred unity.

Some semblance

of understanding

for an event

that makes no sense

beyond death.