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A poem of sorts...

#1
Tears trickle down my chin
splashing quietly on the grass.
How will I survive this pain?
Silence is deafening.
Alone, surrounded by the dead,
the youngest in the whole place.
People stare,
Why would a teenager be here?
I used to wonder the same thing...
The young don’t belong in the graveyard,
at least that’s what I was told.


Honor, remembrance, the Japanese way.
That’s why I am here,
to honor a life that ended too early.
I kneel in reverence.
The tears flow faster, fogging up my vision.
Elise Mae Sachiko K…
A name that does not belong,
not in this place of the past.
Yet she has become a part of the past, just a memory.
A memory I can’t seem to forget.

I run my fingers over her name,
the lines leave impression marks on my skin.
She was everything to me,
to a lot of people.
I’m now choking on my sobs.
The ache, the brooding, the anger,
all bubbles to the surface, threatening to overflow
and ruin everything.
I try to tell myself it’s not the Japanese way,
but I am not like my family.
Yes, I am Japanese.
No, I can’t help but cry at this

My mind swims, trying to navigate the storm of suicide.
Not being able to wrap my mind around it, it hurts.
She should be here, they all should be here.
Why can’t I just move on already?
The warmth of our final hug is fading,
along with my will to live.
I yell at her, not her I guess, it’s just stone and grass
WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?
A question that will never have an answer,
that tortures me when I try to sleep.
I kneel in silence, tears flooding the letters,
trying to fill the empty space between us.

Empty space.
That’s all there is now.
She’s gone and I know that she isn’t coming back.
Under the grass lies her final resting place,
the place I wish she could come out of.
I stand up.
I must move on, I need her, but I can’t have her.
This path must be walked alone, utterly alone.
How do you do it?
I have no choice, I must live on.
That’s what she wants, that’s what I want.
I love you, Elise, I say, I turn and walk away.
The stares like knives in my back, the questions,
those innocent questions burn like acid.

I am here to honor Elise, I say
She was sixteen when she died.
Her death killed me too, unintentionally I mean.
How did she die?
Life was not kind to her, it took her happiness away.
People were not loving, words cut her deep until she felt there was no way out.
Through tears I finish saying, she died by suicide.
How selfish of her.
In anger I say, what’s selfish is that people like you who are insensitive
and cruel, killed an innocent girl.
She isn’t selfish, you are.
I walk away crying tears of anger, sadness, and hurt.
*based on actual events of visiting Elise's grave today.*
and just for the record, I am now 18 1/2 (ish) but it doesn't feel like I'm an adult so I often refer to myself as a teenager still Elise.jpg
 

crumbum

SF Supporter
#2
You're still a teenager. This is a beautiful tribute to your friend. I'm sorry for your pain, and I'm sorry that you understand so well how deeply those words can cut and stay lodged inside forever until the pain overwhelms.
 

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