Nnaliseaai

Gleaming steel, A felt point. Rivulets of blood, Blots of ink, Tearing of flesh, Scratching of paper. Crimson tears, Ebony smears.

Sound of the nails being pounded, Drips of blood raining down, Wailing women and a cheering crowd, A spear piercing flesh, Eyes had no blame, only acceptance. This Son of Man knew of my presence, And yet He did not waver. To those who believed, His sacrifice would save them all. I was not sure how the death of one man Could change the fate of so many. He was seen to be divine and yet mortal. At his last breath, my place here was done. With a crown of thorns, this worldly prince redeemed countless, Or so it is proclaimed, But he is remembered, And I am one of those who do.

Can you glimpse your strife? Within the night of your soul? You say it is not there, Yet you tremble. Beyond the looking glass, Is a realm of your own. Its shifting shadows and Pale phantoms await you. Will you keep them? Long have they festered, Fed by foul passions. You overt your eyes But can you not hear their wails? Why do you refuse to see? These wraiths of your creation, Lie trapped within you. They billow beneath the frosted glass, They beckon you to silence them. Will you answer their harrowing song?

You were young, Just like I was. But you have memories of it, While I do not. We fought, we played, Roughhoused, and namecalled. Though never in malice. In times of uncertainity, You bid me to stay by your side So no harm would come to me. And none ever did. To our absent Mother, you are aloof. No blame shall come from me. To our present Father, you are amiable. Though we have gone our separate ways You will always be my brother, Whose side I am glad to stand at.

The family was broken, this you could plainly see. Life changed and so did you. Barely eight years old and yet, You had to grow up. Mother was no longer there. Instead you had to fill her place. For the two sets of blue eyes, who looked to you when Father was away. You washed our faces, And dried our tears. You were there for us, When she was not. You were there when we got up, after school, And when we went to bed. Father could not always be there. He relied on you. His faith was well-placed. You gave so much, But asked nothing in return. You never realize how much you mean To those you took care of. I am who I am bec

       "Aage ... Aage."        A young man wandered through the graveyard. Someone called to him. Little candles were set in front of each tombstone to commemorate the dead. A breeze made their flames flicker, causing sinister shadows to creep and dance. He supposed that there were more graves than there once had been. The place was silent but that was the way he preferred it. It had been such a long time since he had a moment to himself. The others filled up any silence with idle chatter.        He stopped before a stone structure, one of the few in the graveyard. Above the entrance a family name was engraved. The lanterns on the sides o