THINGS I DIDN’T COME BACK FROM

end of the line, personal photography

There’s a difference in the types of death
one may witness:
like the type that’s a bloodless acceptance
and comes
welcoming
as a soft night, settling
after the long hard day of life
we gather ’round
shake hands
and find comfort in the noble surrendering

then there’s the type
that’s arduous with its agony
survival struggling
in a mayday tailspin
of mind and body
until everything goes quiet
then there’s nothing
nothing
before we break silence to say
hey
at least they’re no longer suffering
right

but then there’s
the bitter type
the one that blindsides
in striking experience
the change of one moment
where we are existing
and then he’s gone
he’s gone
and he’s nothing.
NOTHING.
But reality is still tunneling
gut-wrenching
except now it’s all tainted with the 20/20 scenarios
that could of been
and shoulda…should have been.

Peace
in all its shapes and forms
is born in war
and it isn’t herald as
a happy halcyon for the fortunate
it’s the insanity of contentment
the calm after the raging heartache
knowing of that which came before
and the shock that comes
with the calm that settles
after.


“Hey.
HEY.
At least we aren’t in that mess
anymore…”

Jillian wrote this.

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