One may marvel at, and perhaps rally against
The apparent ease with which we move on
The swiftness with which we place
Thoughts of tragedy behind us

Yet, how could it be otherwise
When the mind recoils at every hint and mention of the unspeakable tragedy
The recollection of which sends the psyche reeling in agony
Into a dismal world of gray
In which vibrancy and vitality is not thought possible

The mind struggles, powerless to reconcile
Who was lost
The brutal and violent manner in which they became lost
And why they had to become lost

And so one welcomes that numbing fog of forgetfulness
That rolls across the gaping wound
Concealing its depths with a pink haze
And the illusion of healing

But how then are we to remember
Those that have been torn from the fabric of our being
Those that we have come to so desperately miss
Often only once they have been taken from us?
How do we honor the ultimate sacrifice
How do we construct that eternal pedestal
Upon which our loved ones will stand,
In all of their splendor and magnificence

Perhaps if we reach into the fog, into the ashes
And drop a seed - a seed of the fallen
And fertilized by the pain and by the love
Perhaps a seedling of exuberant life and vitality will sprout and grow
Penetrating the haze

And perhaps, with time,
The dormant ruins below,
Along with the fog of forgetfulness hovering above
Will find closure, in their transformation into fertile soil
Nurturing the sapling of the seed of our loved ones

So while there may come a day
When I will no longer remember
When I will no longer mourn
I will be sitting in the shade of your tree
Enjoying the sweetness of its fruit
And, somewhere deep within,
Marveling at the potency of its seeds,
And the seeds of its seeds