Page 87 - KCN 2020
P. 87
They come to me everyday, with ashen The shadows beneath their eyes mark the countless,
faces painted with fatigue and glossy, melan- never-ending nights they lie awake in bed, yearning.
cholic eyes that matched my own. Theirs,
however, always held the tiniest bit of light. Like They grovel in front of me, clasping their
tiny flecks of gold, they sing a melody so subtle hands together until their knuckles turn a ghastly
yet so loud, the reason why my heart aches so. white. They beg me to take away their endless
torment, their endless suffering. They beg me
They come with offerings of every kind, to let them move on. Yet, I can only do so much.
from exotic gems and lavish meals to copper coins
and scraps of bread. No matter merchant or tyrant, The grief that sprouted from your
fool or scholar— in the end, they are all the same. loss, the fear of losing any more than you
already have— it pushes you forward. Please
Behind each layer of carefully crafted don’t fear it, don’t bury it six feet under. It
ego and persona is a transparent husk. The will always be with you. It shapes you into
shells of many men wail out in anguish; they who you are and who you are going to be.
beg for salvation. Their hearts, like shattered The memories they’ve passed onto you— they
glass boxes pieced back together, seem as if they are still with you, and they will stay with you.
would crumble at the slightest touch of a hand.
I hope that one day, when you look back
They have all lost something, a on your memories, the ache in your chest will
person or an object dear to their hearts. The be a bittersweet sensation of nostalgia. I hope
Fates have never been and will never be kind. you will know that your memories were not
merely just passing moments. They are indelible,
They come up to me, tears lining their like ink on paper.
bloodshot eyes as they beg and plea. They promise
to be better, they make negotiations upon their Perhaps one day when you think of
loyalty. They even threaten their faith, all to take them, it will not be as unbearable as before.
back what has been lost, what has been force- Perhaps it will feel more like seeing an old friend,
fully taken from them by this unforgiving world. after a long, long trip.
Voices cracked and hoarse, their sobs You will heal.
fill the air as they fall to the ground, breaking.
I can do nothing but watch, my heart drown- It is not an overnight process. It may
ing in sympathy as well as guilt. They seek solace take months, years, even decades. But no matter
in me and yet I am unable to do anything. how hard it gets, how dark it becomes, you
H I R A E T H The world is a cruel place. you. You will heal, and you will stand up again.
must remember that the sun will always rise for
Kuan Ker Zhi In their cloudy eyes blinded by loss and I cannot ease your suffering nor can
regret, the world is monochromatic to them— I take away your pain. I can only grant you
shades of deep, dark blues, sooty, somber blacks my words of comfort and a listening ear.
and numb, stoic greys. The void, ever-growing in Whatever that unfolds in the path ahead of you
their hearts, never stops gnawing at their spirits. is all for you to decide. Only time will tell.
Cracks evident and scars bare, they hug them-
83 selves for the warmth they long and crave for. 84 After all, I am merely a witness. A specta-
tor in the never-ending cycle of grief and healing.
