I think marc would have liked Fantasy Faire. It would have appealed to both the theater artist in him, as well as the clergyman. So it was not hard to imagine being immersed in a blue land, and having his carroty head (as it was when we first met) pop up and be ready to truth talk. Enjoy.
The Weeping Land
by Judith Cullen
© 2018
In Memory of Marcus Walker
I found myself in an azure land; as blue as my heart felt,
filled with trees that mimicked my tears.
My footfalls felt empty, echoing on the stone path till I stopped, stood
still, afraid the emptiness was more than I could endure.
There was a rustling in a bower of ferns to my right and an
impish head popped up, bright ginger hair anomalous in this weeping land.
"Aristophanes!" it shouted merrily.
"Gesundheit!" I replied and sniffed loudly, by
long-practiced reflex. I had not done that in years, and there had only ever
been one person I had shared that joke with.
"Marcus! Is that
you?" I looked to the bower of ferns. The fronds waved at me, mockingly
empty. I stood blinking at where I thought
I had seen that bright, beloved head appear.
I couldn't be. Marc was
gone. He'd been gone for a while.
