Ghost

I still see you.
Standing there, sober-faced and stalwart.
Heart beating mad, passion running through you.
Taken in four seconds,
The end before the beginning.

See, I feel you sometimes.
Hand outstretched towards my face,
Fingers locked around my head.
I know you need to claw at my mind,
Once more before you are gone.

I wonder some days.
What you were, what you still are.
The thoughts exists in my brain, driven mad by bullets,
And the sound of rushing blood.
Deep within, your courage holds me.
I am a man carrying our past.

I walk down that old crumbling road,
Covered by leeching fog.
I hear our sounds, our speech, our understanding.
And I believe, even for just a little moment,
That you are not a ghost at all.

– Walker Raymond, The Haverford School, Class of 2016

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