This is another story that I often think about:

the story of the team

 

after the car crash that ended the life of one of their own

fleeing to the dark library and grieving over a death far too early;

 

sitting on the faded blue couches

heads in their hands; can’t see the beautiful sunrise

ascend and brighten the clear New Mexico sky.

 

Wearing bright blue jerseys with black letters,

tough boys crumbling under the sorrow of loss.

 

How silent the library is on a Friday mourning,

draped with sadness like a heavy blanket,

breathing in the scent of tears and sweat

 

watching with watery eyes over the bookshelves

                                seem to rot and wither with sorrow

 

later, they will honor his memory

                                with a small white cross

the coach placing flowers at the site,

                                the mother drowning in sorrow

-but for now, they are certain of his fate; now

 

they are like a game of hide-and-seek

one lost and never to be found

 

for once I have arrived here in too quiet of a time

to watch the boys use comforting words

to remind them of happy memories

                                fading to black and white

 

the words becoming cracked and forced, the colors fading

 

It is not the mistake of the boy;

It is not the manner of death;

 

It is the suffocating smoke of loss                            

                                that curls its way around their hearts

 

how it constricts their hearts like a snake

 

how it knows exactly how to break a team

to change them all forever.