We heard the spirits wailing to those that mourned

Walking silently in crowd’s midst in aching steps

PULSE beats in remembrance of those who died

Blackened building hiding in ebony sky in shame

Memorial growing to honor those killed in vain

Cowardly terrorist leaving legacy of senseless violence

We paused for a moment to watch bereaved

Line up in hundreds, paying tribute with token flowers

We felt the ghosts surrounding us in eternal silence

Pervasive shadows casting sorrowful presence

As shivers touched our spines in sympathy

For innocents who died when breaths were snuffed.

In Memoriam to all those who died tragically in Orlando.

I’ve cried many times

But never like this

I’ve felt loss before

But never like this

I’ve had sad news before

But never like this

I will never forget

I will always remember

Sometimes it’s sad – other times, happy

Your way of walking

How funny your jokes were

How you used to call me

How much you knew about everything

How you spanked me once or twice

How you liked to walk holding my hands

How your big strong hand felt on mine

Your smell and how good looking you were

I will never forget

And sometimes I wonder

Was I ever a disappointment

Have I ever made you proud

None of it matters now

I just wish you knew how much I always loved you

And how much I admired you

Because I’ve met many men

But never one quite like you

I hope you fail.

I hope you feel the pain

Of losing at the game

We call life.

And I pray that you don't succeed 

And one day will bleed.

Because thats what makes us stronger.

Each time you fall,

You must get up 

to prove to them all,

That you can do it.

You aspire to be great

But greatness only comes

To those who have fate

And to those who never stop trying.

Turn your wounds into wisdom,

Each scar represents weakness 

That you overcome.

Micheal jordan is pretty great,

But he misses all the shots he doesn't take.

Don't let failure shut you down

But wake you up.

Loss isn't the end.

But the mere beginning

of something beautiful.

We live, we eat, we sleep, 

We lie, we cry, we die.

We fake, we take, we break,

Yet no one asks us why.

When one loses,

The other wins.

When one dies,

The other lives.

Even Ouroboros understands,

That we need to lose and change,

Our life, our time, ourselves,

After all, life is a stage.

Filled with masks, a pesky entertainment,

and a lack of real people.

I'm losing myself in this disguise,

Each step a death march, lethal.

Most days I'm okay.

I walk and talk,

Smile and laugh.

I can eat and drink just fine.

Then I am reminded of you.

Of us.

What we used to have,

Promises we once made to each other,

And once again I feel the burn of your death.

Wishing I tried harder to lay down with you,

To crawl into your coffin and snuggle

With you for all eternity.

I visit your grave and show your headstone

Pictures of what your body now looks like.

I wonder if you can see me

Spread out next to you

And if you weep with regret.

Are you as sad as I am?

Because this loss is painful.

In solitude, they cried.

They told each other what in their hearts remained

after the devastation that consumed their heirs.

The dusty room was dark,

the walls were fragile

and the air was cold.

Their hands were shaking

but their minds were strong,

their legs were numb

for running far away from home.

Their backs were achy

and so were their hearts of gold.

For miles they had run

before succumbing

to the horror of it all.

For miles they had run

before realizing

that they were long gone.

The bodies were cold

they weighted like heavy stone.

They had lifted them up from the reddish ground,

they had lifted them up from their own praised land.

For years they had worshipped the earth

that for many moons had provided their bread;

for years they had worked until the end of day

and woke up to begin again.

But then greed appeared

with a set of punishing hands

that bled them to death.

In their absence, avarice decided to possess

all that it belonged to them,

even their kids, their names,

even the spirit of the land ahead.

They carried their heirs,

they run for miles and did not bend;

they carried their pain,

their love and their despair,

the violence and the end.

And in solitude they cried

tumultuous howling of agonizing cry,

the cried their past, their heritage

and their land;

but above all,

they cried their hearts,

and tears of gold

began to shine

the love that one feels for a child.

And in solitude they cried,

they told each other what remained in their hearts:

an eternal silence that echoed the path

that one must follow when

the sorrow had just won.

___________________

By Carolina Gonzalez (Carolina Portilla Garcés)

February 27th, 2015

#carolinaswords

"Where did I put my glasses, huh?

Where did I put my keys?

I swear I had some dreams, in here,

some aces up my sleeves.

Where did all my years go, boy?

Where are all my friends?"

Said Grampa to his old bird dog

somewhere near the end.

There´s a certain feeling, you only experience it when you get "the call". 

That call at 2 am you don´t want to receive. 

Then everything turns gray and foggy, nothing makes sense and you start questioning if you are really awake.

You are in your black clothes, looking at him, you can´t believe it is really him, you saw him alive last night, he even said "I love you, see you tomorrow". 

His skin is gray, his lips are glued and his eyes are closed. 

You fall into the floor, you wish you could touch him and kiss him goodbye for one last time.

You already miss him so bad.

People come to you, they talk about him and how great he WAS. Was... was...

He no longer is, he was, he was... You are, he is not, he is not here, but there, in that coffin.

For some minutes you forget you are in HIS funeral, you are just surrounded by friends and family.

Then the priest comes.

Then those man come.

Then they take HIM out of the room.

It it the last time you´ll ever see his body.

You want to call him, you look for him in that room.

He is not there, they are taking him away from you.

You love him, you love him with all your body, soul and heart.

What are you going to do tomorrow?

Who are you going to call to talk about your day?

2 hours 36 minutes... then they come back with a wooden box.

He is in there.

Now it´s over.

Goodbye,

You love him forever. 

Good morning,

You miss him forever. 

{ This is an excerpt of a long term story I have been writing. It is one of the best descriptions about teenage loss that I have written in awhile. But because it is so long (4585 words) I've cut away a lot of it to make it more bearable.}

I missed out on school for the next week. I couldn't just go back; everything remind me of him. The halls, the students, the teachers, his locker that sat right across from my own. I couldn't bring myself to do it. When I did finally go to school it was as if everyone was grieving like I was. They all wore black like I did. They all cried and told me how sorry they were for my lose.

I wanted to wear Charlie's variety jacket, but it was very tattered. I hated the thought of what might have happened to the boy I loved. The thought that he was not here with me. I spent most of my days locked up in my room. I didn't talk to my friends much outside of school anymore. I just wanted to be alone.

Was this what depression felt like? Was it like this black hole I had now entered? Was it a feeling of utter emptiness filling up the void where my heart once rest? Was it no longer living - felling like my soul had been taken from my being - simply breathing; going on with no meaning? It was this empty feeling at the pit of my stomach from not eating. It was the loneliness of my lips without his. It was the the wetness of my face after crying.

Weeks had past and I had never felt so alone. This is what depression was; I now understood all those suicidal teenagers that no longer wanted to drag on in life this way. I knew the feeling of loneliness when in a room full of people. I understood crying for what seemed like no reason at all. I understood all the sad songs that played and every word reminded me of him; of my Charlie.

I couldn't do it any longer. In fact; I was tempted to end all the pain and suffering that a broken heart caused. It hurt to much to even go back and think about it. I was at an all time low and I didn't want to be there anymore. After another two weeks things seemed to go back to normal at Riverdale High. They continued on as if nothing had happened. It was like I was the only one still holding on. I was the only one who stilled cried. I was the only one who still wore black. I was his fallen mistress; the only person who still cared after he had gone.

There was something inside of me telling me that Charlie wasn't gone forever. That he was just watching us. That he was waiting for the perfect time to come back into our lives once again. That part of me was correct; and if I had only known back then, I would have warned myself. I would have told myself not to mourn for such an extensive period of time. I would have told myself not to think so darkly and listen to sad songs all hours of the night. I wouldn't have allowed myself to go so far; but I couldn't warn myself.

The nights were long. They were harder to get though than the days. During the day I had school, friends, family, things to detract myself. During the nights it was just me and thoughts of Charlie. They ate away at my inside in vivid color of what might have happened. Scenes of blood and mad men all in the fault of Charlie's mysterious disappearance.

I didn't want to think too deeply about the details of what might have happened, but my mind did not allow me to do as I wish then. It was a controlling factor in my life. It made me think and do things the normal Natalie wouldn't think or do. I hated it; not knowing who I was anymore. I use to love who I was because of what we were; Charlie and I. We were something special. He was my heart and I wasn't afraid to admit it. To think that my very heart might be gone forever struck fear into my very core. ©

#writeaboutloss

You're in the background of every thought, and I frame every picture in my mind so that you're in it. I do it without realising. But when I know you're gone, I have to correct every daydream by painfully erasing you from it. My decision making process is shattered as I find that all my plans automatically try to revolve around you and now have no point of balance. My internal monologue has somehow become an imagined dialogue between us, and I cannot suppress the echoes of your voice in my mind. I want to share every new idea with you because you are a part of them all. I shape every occurrence into an anecdote, carefully crafted for you. And now I know that I can never give you these creations. My emotions are just a reflection of you and with you gone they are formless. I had begun to define myself using the language of who you are and without that vocabulary my identity is a nebulous inequality. You were the answer to every question and now every inner turmoil remains unresolved. All these changes had begun to happen without me noticing, and only once I was forced to begin the task of reconstructing the pathways in my mind so that their destination is not always you, did I realise the extent of the difference you made. And without that difference I'm at a loss.