#184

The peak of graduation day’s party—

the slow dance has started.

Like teams before a game begins,
groups of peers huddle in one place, then another,
like fireworks gathered beautifully
in a blank firmament,
quietly reaching a turning point
before the explosion.

The few who joined the music
held each other’s hands tightly,
as though the world would end tomorrow,
though tomorrow would be just another Sunday morning.

The whispers ebbed and flowed
like the tides of an ocean,
reaching only a few souls
who could hear each other across the shore.

There were tears, too.
There were definitely tears.

You were among your peers.

There were no tears in your eyes,
only a sparkle.

A new age was coming.
Your smile was visible only
through the guise of your silhouette.

Your eyes did not glisten,
nor did your voice change in pitch.

You understood the saying:
life goes on.

Instead of saying goodbye
to the others with tearful eyes,

you, like those protagonists in stories,
wore a nonchalant bravado and said:

“See you tomorrow.”

Although you weren’t the hero.
You never even knew what tomorrow held.

Soon after, you cut ties.

You changed your address,
changed your email,
changed your number,
and whatever else they might use to find you.

You became like a ghost.

Although, in truth—

you never even made a—

Have you made a difference?

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