Elle Vampa

There are no words for what I’d like to write about today.

For what I must write about, for it is the biggest news I have to share. There’s nothing else, really.

Except for Maya Angelou.

I’ve always loved some of her most famous quotes – and even more so some of her less-famous ones.

It’s like she always knew just what to say or write.

And I really wish I was more like that, too.

Plus, apparently her and I share a rare personality-type, if I am to believe the Myers-Brigg 16 Personalities Test (Maya and I are INFJ-T’s, if you’re wondering), only adding to the growing sensation of I Need To Devour Her Work.

So, I got myself a copy of her collection-of-poems Still I Rise.

And it scared me.

Because a) I’m not good with poetry and felt I understood less than half of what she wrote, and b) even if I didn’t get it, it’s still amazingly well written.

I could never write like that. Convey emotions into words like that. Impossible.

And then my friend died.

And there are no words in the world to fully describe what’s happening inside of me right now.

What happened, you ask?

We were supposed to go see a movie a few weekends ago, but I had a cold *cough cough* remember? So I texted him to cancel and reschedule.

No reply.

Which I thought was weird, because, well, he’s usually so quick, making me wonder if he did indeed had his cell phone glued to his hand.

Another text two days later, again no reply.

I got worried, started running every doom scenario I could think of in my mental cinema – all but that one that turned out to be true.

Last Monday I got the news: my friend passed away. An inflamed pancreas with bonus complications that resembled stomach flu symptoms turned fatal.

And I have no words. There’s shock, obviously. And periods of hysterical crying. Lots of emotions.

But no words.

To honour my friend, I’ve written a poem.

Now, don’t get too excited: it’s not Maya-worthy work. And I’ll probably never do it again, since poetry isn’t my thing.

But my friend deserves something special. Because he was special.

So here we go:

an empty forest, leaves
turning brown, an Autumn
wind blowing, gets under
my skin, chills my soul, I
numbly continue, but
each step weighs me further
down

I long for Spring, when
the trees are alive, and
the sunshine lures my feet
into motion, making my
heart race, my skin tingle, my
spirit rejoice, no matter how
far

hope covered under dead
leaves, hidden. something is
missing, cannot be restored, yet
I know not to give up, because
like Spring we will meet again, after
my walk is done and I, too, go
up

K, I’ll miss you. Deeply. Thank you for our time together.

It was much too short, but wonderful. I am truly honoured I got to call you my friend ❤