A poem for Roger by Ian Galbraith

No Rain

My friend died today. No warning, no noise, just died.
A friend came to tell me. No tears, no shouting, just told.
I could not take it in, I tried but could not comprehend
His passing. I could not understand its meaning. For me he stays alive, my friend, my brother.

This evening I went out, out to a bar. Just drinking,
I thought of nothing very much. Trying to awake
I drank a lot of beer and then some whiskey.
While mulling over times we talked, and what we shared
In moments, time passed, and so I watched the night drift by.

Not dreaming, just in vacant emptiness spellbound,
Not purposeful, yet noise, yet laughs and smiles surround
Me. Alone in my crowd I'll never once again greet my friend.
Today has been warm, so warm in truth my body runs with salty sweat.
Since hearing of his passing, forked lightning spans the sky.

With flashes and with evanescent splendour
The bolts announce the ending of his day.
Yet never once has thunder pealed a warning,
And never once the rain the air would cleanse
The solemn silence marking his departure.

Today one dream lies broken, tomorrow thunder reigns.
Tomorrow sorrows of life's transience can be spoken,
Though until then we may not cry in pain.
The earth remains unwatered by our sadness,
Tomorrow there could be some time for rain.

Ian Galbraith 5.8.2003

Written on the date that my best friend, Roger Young, stopped breathing in this world.