He met with ocean waves, like concrete,
After his long journey down.
Feathers scattered over hot wax.
My angel has fallen,
And there was nothing I could do to catch him,
So I hold him,
For the last time.
Screaming at the sun.
How could you?
How,
Could,
You.
But in the end,
I found freedom in your absence,
And a kind of softness in your demise.
The water tasted sweeter without you,
The sunshine was warmer,
And brighter.
The pain ceased,
And my wings got stronger,
Carrying me over the vast expansive ocean,
The one you yourself couldn’t overcome.
By Moira Miller ’27