How it's supposed to be.

People kept saying, "This isn't how it's supposed to be."
And I sat there thinking, "How is it supposed to be?"
Should he be here, living, with us, chatting, laughing-
Like a normal teenager, who, when you look more closely,
is far from normal, per se.

Some people can change the world they live in
by changing something in thier community.
Their backgrounds are feilds,
and thier visions, dynamic.

Some people are effective,
they get a message out.
They are like a small pebble,
Thrown into a still pond,
ripples spanning to the dark.

Some people die, painful and prolonged,
And the thought hangs like a boulder,
held up by an old rope,
and when it breaks-
there will be waves.

Some people do all three.

The water laps more harshly then it has before,
liquid tendrils reaching futher on the shore.
You can't tell where this is going,
and still, you long for more.

This is not our resting place,
and neither is it yours.
Like a leaf, your memory,
floats on into the storm.

Maybe we will dance in it,
for it's known; This too shall pass.
Sometimes it takes longer,
and sometimes we forget.

How can we know who will be here, when the storm does clear?
And why do we cry for strangers, but not for kin?
Why do we suppose to say that the universe is wrong?

I heard them say, "This is not how it's supposed to be?"
And it got me to thinking, "So how is it supposed to be?"

~*~

For Aharon Simcha Halley- z''l