Sunday

The silence suffocates the light. The pews are filled with mourners. The reason: a simple mistake. A walk up the narrow aisle, the truth revealed. A body lies lifeless in all its innocence, Confined in his last resting place. Smooth wood walls hold what once was. The pale face tells the story of that day on the overpass, the beginning to this end. Buried six feet under, motionless. I bid fair well to the familiar smile of this stranger. The many words never spoken stuck in my throat, Drowning into the emptiness of our past. His memory vivid and this lesson never forgotten.