Elegy For Isaiah

Here’s to the ones we love,

here’s to the ones that love us,

here’s to the ones we love that died

too young, 19. Stories

told off friend’s lips. Isaiah was

no prophet but one of a kind,

"If he dies, he dies," spoken

like a true friend. Since then

a dream haunts me. Condo,

up high. Isaiah pondering

on balcony’s ledge. I watch

his back. Leap of

faith, plummets

through Earth. I run

to the balcony, my eyes

asphyxiated by the view. Deep red

on the horizon, making streaks

in deep blue. Shining stars

reflect on a flat ocean. Giant

Condor swoops underneath me,

wings the length of cars.

Isaiah on its back. Rising

sun burning scars.

© 2021 Sebastian Chipoco