By: Rachel Riffle
I see my friend wrapped in white,
saying her goodbyes
to the mourners
weeping at her feet.
I try to approach her.
But with every step,
my eyes burn.
I fear I cannot control
the flood about
to burst
and overwhelm her worshippers
at the altar of grief.
She is dying.
But I turn from her,
for fear that her fire
and light
will be too bright
for me to touch.