the first poem

“Morning of July 5th” 

And so we bid one another “goodnight” 

in an echo of what was ritual. 

The night itself as stale and unwanted

as the helpless tears dried upon our cheeks. 

I sat upon our brother’s bed and watched 

the stars evaporate into the dawn: 

celestial light consumed by morning, 

the inhalation of all life on Earth. 

With a most gentle knock upon the door, 

you entered into the pale-grey bedroom 

as it was still too soon to be alone. 

Somber silence grew alongside the light. 

Upon a bed designed for only one

missing him who would never see the sun. 

_________________________

As a child, I frequently wrote poems. I stopped in middle school. 

The summer after my freshman year of college, my friend passed away suddenly in the midst of celebrating his 24th birthday. 

I began writing again.