"It's funny how you go somewhere with nothing and come back with so much more than you left."

It was the summer before my sophomore year in high school. I was away at a college in New York for four days at a writing camp I had applied for and got accepted to. About three days after I arrived, I got a call from my coach saying my friend had lost her mom suddenly. From that moment I did everything I could to find a way to get home. In the car with my grandparents on the way home I did the only thing that made sense to me; I wrote her a poem.


This Wall

Don't you understand?
You try to compare her so you can better understand.
You do not understand and you cannot.
I will not compare her,
for she is beautiful.
Watch.
Pictures are being painted.
Painted by numb fingers as they rise to wipe silent tears.
I will hang your pictures on the wall.
The wall we built when we could no longer take the pain.
No, don't try to climb the wall.
It will crumble on its own.
It will age with time,
and the memories will fade.
Do you see those cracks?
You're getting stronger
and it's getting weaker.
When will they see that I cannot compare you?
I cannot compare you;
for you are beautiful.
Don't listen to him.
This is not the end.
There is no point where we stop going on.
We're walking down a path lit by angels.
They're all around,
do you see them?
As long as you don't walk away they will never leave.
Take my hand,
I am blind without it.
Please do not let go.
Will you open your eyes?
Can't you see now that I cannot compare her?
I cannot compare her;
for she is all I have that is beautiful.