The ones that left this realm early,
They are not entirely gone.
The flames that got extinguished at high noon,
It is never their end,
For they have wisps of their final smoke,
Mingled with the blackened thatch,
That covers the cooking dome.
Traces of their breath remain in the wind,
Echoes of their voices resonate in us, deep within,
And sands of the earth eternally carry an imprint,
Reminiscent of the places they stepped and blessed.
The ones that left the market of life early,
They are never totally gone,
As long as they live in our memories,
As long as they visit our dreams,
As long as we wear those places they touched on our skin,
And as long as our grieving hearts beat.
We pray they rest in peace,
Just as we pray to find the strength to carry on living,
As if our hearts are not broken,
As if we do not miss their presence, as if we’re not mourning,
As if, as we wail the songs of goodbye, our tears,
Do not betray our confusion, and hide our fears,
As to if and when exactly, we get to meet again.
For Safriat, and all the others.