You’re over there Down the empty aisle that seems to go on for miles, Surrounded by unfamiliar figures, Unknowingly guarding the path with murmurs and stabbing silence. Just like that night, I can’t seem to move. Their eyes Drown me in condemnation and curiosity. Their bodies Held back by the perception of what mourning should look like: Proper and well-kept on the outside; Wrath and desire to pounce on the inside. What was I to them but an enemy? Little do they know, I’m here for the same reasons as them, But without the rage, With a thin layer of judgment And a thick layer of guilt- Haunting my healing with blame, And empathy- Magnetizing your lost emotions And everyone else’s grief. The last time we saw each other, I couldn’t look you in the eyes, But I want to now One last time. Yet the stares chain me down, Telling me, “You move, you die.” I will never see acceptance. Not here, Not ever. The enemy put you in that box. To them, The enemy mocks them With her appearance. Understanding seeps through my tears; Confusion escapes with every deep breath I release. I should be the one seething. You would be on my side, If you weren’t weighed down By the label and consequences Of the unforgivable act. At least, I hope you would have. I blame my strong pull to torture myself In the gathering of my haters, Even when others refused to join me. They must’ve thought it would be too much. And they weren’t wrong. As I stand here, In the shadows of the carved wooden doors of the church, Hidden behind the beaming twilight, Retreating seems impossible And Improbable, At least without conflict. In my devoted stare, Unbreaking from your casket, I daydream about the possibility of unity That will never become a reality. We may never see eye-to-eye– After all, Does it really matter, now?