She came to school in tears
and I caught her in the hallway.
Through her red and half-shut eyes
I can see her pain as she says,
"My friend killed himself yesterday."
Then it's that thing that happens
once the body knows the truth of your words
has escaped your lips -
the body gives in, and she gasps between tears,
and her body shakes.
I hug her, wishing I could remove her pain.
She's 16.
This will be all she can think of today.
She walks on to her locker.
I call the school counselor in shock.
The counselor wonders aloud, on the phone,
if this "friend" is the same "friend"
another mourning student told her about yesterday,
a "friend," gone from drugs, no, not the same.
My girls carry around their grief,
so often in silence.
And the secret hurting is what causes my pain.
How many people will know today -
at school, at sports, at her after-school job -
the hurt that will be preoccupying her thoughts,
the pain, absence, and loss that won't go away?
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