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upon the road

I came across a paper

written, typed – some parts, illegible

the paragraphs and incomplete sentences

indicating someone

had passed away

where, now –

that was all unclear

the part that was clear

was the grief –

the pangs of loneliness

left behind for the bearer

this torch fate now handed to me—

why me?

clutching the orphaned words –

I ran 

the torch burning

I repeating, “don’t cry, don’t cry”  

to who?

there was

only me –

and the road – 

and the words –

we cried together



bkmackenzie copyrighted 2008