I am here.

I am waiting, healing, forgotten.

I am trying, hoping, finding, wishing.

I am unheard.


I open my eyes,

To find myself being carried off,

When I am right here.

I was strong, capable, and respected.

And now mourned.

Why?


If I wander amoung them,

I find it ironic.

I am a soul amoung souls,

Different.

I cannot be seen, felt, or heard,

And he cannot sense me.

That is much harder.


The light has not come,

Why am I still here?

Am I truly gone,

Just an apparition of what was.

Or am I here,

Simply different

Like night and day?


Myself, here or not,

Gravitates towards a place,

a person, unthinkingly.

Will I come back to him,

Ease myself and him from his obvious suffering?

He tries to hide it, but I see.

It hurts.