“Something really bad”

Was all he had said, then

Hesitating and averting his gaze—

“Malcolm’s gone.”

The cruel sun rose

As the world fell off its axis,

Smothering the chapel pews

In mournful melancholy.

Solemnly, the pastor stood:

“Though short, his life,

Full of selflessness,

Left a mark on us all.”

“Every friendship fulfilled

Each smile to a stranger,

Any generous gift,

Is a continuation of his legacy.”

I closed my eyes,

Trying to picture his face

In vain, nothing came,

Only the scornful sun.

Then a hand upon my shoulder,

And shivers of nostalgia

With kind words

From a familiar voice.

Now, a flame kindled within,

Ignited by the realization

That in this despairing peace

Malcolm’s mission lives on.