The grove.

My feet carry me
to this hidden grove
My heart is in tears as my face smiles, I need to let it out, but I have no time.
I have to run a meeting in less than 30 minutes. I have to be okay this is too personal to talk about. A friend earlier asked me to talk, but I had to prepare, this is my burden. I'm the "leader" of the campus Thomists and we just got formed, its a baby and needs me to feed it. I feed it not from my excess but from my own means. I feed it knowing that
I sacrifice myself.

I stand in the grove listening to praise and worship songs on my mp3 player
The lights from the not so distant buildings and parking lot flood into my sanctuary.
My soul's cathedral.

I'm okay. A song begins to play as my feet start leaving, and I freeze.
I don't like the music so much
But the words pound me,
breaking fast past my sentries heading straight for my heart.
I'm standing.
My ice cream slides out of my hand as I collapse to my heels.
The tears are here.
And I can no longer fight.

He was my dog.
My fat boy, puppy, puppy boy
My footrest, rug and vigilant doorstop.
I loved him.
I grew up with him.
So did my whole family.
He was our brother and our mooch.
And I can't be there.
I can't be there, where families gather to mourn.
I can't.
I'm here.
7pm.