The Final Battle

We made our way forward never stopping until we reached our final goal. The final fight was long, and yet we persevered. I was sure that all was lost but somehow... somehow we conquered.

The victory was sweet, and we parted ways knowing that we had won a great victory.

Sometimes when I’m alone I can still hear the sound of her voice, calling me to come back to her. She coaxes, and beguiles with talk of days gone by. Of unfinished battles still to fight, of a peace to be won, of freedom, of summer days upon the hills, laughter, love. It makes no sense to me.

Sometimes her tears fill the spaces of my mind. Racked with sorrow she can’t form the words she so wishes to speak.

I try to tell her that there is nothing to cry about. We fought bravely and conquered.

Still she weeps.

I try to remind her of the summer days, and the hills, the picnics at sunset.

Still she weeps.

I feel churlish for becoming impatient. She cries more than she smiles these days. The joy that once filled her seems to have dwindled and only a spark remains. I want to gather her to me and coax that spark into a flame, but days blow by me like wisps of mist, and I am lost in the haze.

I used to fear she was drifting away from me. I tried to call to her but she didn’t seem to hear... or maybe I forget to call out. I meant to but there are shapes in the mist that have been catching my eye. They draw my attention away from the present. These days I fear it is more likely that I am drifting away from her.

The mist enfolds me in a loving embrace and it soothes my fears. Time seems to run into itself. A shape catches my eye and i move toward it, the last echo of her voice fading away. I become one with the mist.

I look down and see the body. A girl weeps by it’s side as though the entire world was at an end.