Do you remember
how you used to burst into every room
like the world couldn’t help but notice you?
Always the loudest laugh,
always the coolest kid,
always leaving sparks on the floor
wherever you walked.
I wonder if you remember
the afternoons we chased light across the yard,
your hands stained with color,
your voice daring the sky to listen.
I can still hear it,
the way you made even silence feel alive.
God must have heard you coming.
I hope he laughed like we did,
shook his head at your mischief
and let you in anyway.
You were always making a scene,
always too bright to hide,
too beautiful to stay quiet.
Do you remember
the nights under the fading sun,
the river waiting for your shadow to leap?
I swear I can still see you,
your laughter ringing in the trees,
and it hurts so much
to know it’s only memory now.
I hope you see them too…
the ones who carry your sparks,
who stumble into the light you left behind.
They’re not quite like you,
but they try,
and I think you’d be proud
even if you rolled your eyes.
God must have heard you coming.
I hope he did.
You always deserved to be seen,
always deserved to be heard,
always the brightest of us all.