Thanksgiving at your house

A Poem by A.P_1

Thanksgiving—a time usually reserved for family and joy—though not this year.

Thanksgiving was today
I went to your parents' house
We spent the whole night looking at the chair you once sat on
The chair you once laughed with joy on as you sang Jingle Bells annoying everyone in the house
Especially our little daughter who kept on telling you it wasn't Christmas yet
Making all of us cry in joy and her confused
And now she cries too
We all do
Staring at your empty seat knowing you won't be there
That you only exist in the cemetery of our brains Your body lost and scattered when the bombs hit
Thanksgiving your second intangible funeral
If you were here once the night was up I'd hold your hand And ask you: Are humans evil, dear?
You would smile and say: No And give a dozen reasons as to why
Back then I would believe them crystal clear
But now it's getting hard and the fog's coming up Leading me to think that humankind is despicable
That man is cruel
I know it seems petty love but I cannot be happy
Not with you gone
Not with what they did to you