Perdido

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I can’t remember his face.
My class still looks the same but something is missing.
A chair stands empty, a school bin of notebooks untouched since three days.
A place mat turned upside down whispers the name of its owner, but he isn’t there.

“A car accident” they tell me and my head starts to swim.
Memories rush into my eyes and ears, slipping tires and the slow silence before a deafening crunch.
Was he afraid? Did he know?

Six years was all he had, a life barely begun.
The loss of a child strikes to my core, the loss of a student, my student.
What would he have become?
What impact would he have had on our world?
We will never know, why can't I remember his face?

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Comments

[Carlie]

Sarah,
Your poem fills me with sadness. I am at once startled and awed by the beauty you are able to bring to such a tragedy. Bravo. To write that must not have been easy but you do him great honour with those words. Love love. Your travel buddy