I carry the guilt of remembering the dead
In fear that if I don't, who will.
This tug of war between time and memory
Brings fatigue to my soul.
Anger has long passed, leading the road
With forgiveness at its end.
Though, in celebrating life, I can't help feel
The weight of every conversation.
That dangerous, infinite, path of what if.
Decisions and indecisions that brought death.
Answers may never be found, though I hope,
To relinquish this guilt of remembering.
