And

And I hear them talk
about it,
but I don’t
comprehend it.
So the jokes come and are
told by my friends.
We laugh and move on thinking
we understand.

And a friend comes in and its
happened,
not to him but maybe to his
uncle or something and his
mother is sad and
he is confused and
we don’t realize.

And it happens to me.
Well not to me but to my
great-aunt and my
grandma is sad and my
mother is worried and
I lose interest quickly.

And it happens to
us and the shards fly and the wood splinters and the screams and our
friend lies on the floor and the tears and
we try to comfort
him but its no good and
we know and
we comprehend.

And the numbers mean
little or
nothing to
us but the names are pure
pain, deep in a knot in our
chests.

And the knot is still there but
less tight and
we go on with our lives.
School and work and
family reunions.
And we forget what we
knew but
we think we still
comprehend.

And it happens again to my
friend and
he wasn’t even a good
friend and
he did it to himself and
I don’t know why
or how
and why
and why
and why
and
why?