Grey skies. Grey skies cover me, but I get no warmth. I see nothing above me, no sun, no clouds but just one colour, grey. My dress is made of wool, black and sad. It sits lifelessly on my body. My long brown hair covers my face, the wind spilling it across my features like what a scarf would do in the fall on the windiest of days. Even though I stand alone, with the small crowd a good distance in front of me, everything feels like its looming, ready to swallow my unfortunate soul. I’m short but am I really this short? The group stands by a tree that weeps over the two tombs. They are huddled together, so that they look like a black cloud, raining their own rain. They try to bury their torment, which is burning them on the inside. Trying to tame the wild beast; and not even the bitter wind that causes spasms of frost covered pain can ease their blistering agony. Daddy had once said that when God is sad he cries, when he is heartbroken it pores. What would daddy say if he saw this? It’s not raining; shouldn’t God be sad that they’re gone? Probably not, they’re with him now. No one is here with me, to comfort me but I don’t blame them, everyone is lost in their own labyrinth. The monster that had taken my parents away had stilled reality, making everyone consume themselves and become forgetful. I was one of the forgotten. I can’t see the grievers anymore, I won’t be able to watch them rise and leave, have they gone already? The air around me has thickened but it is still cold and clear. Stings spew across me bare skin, icy and damp. I look up even though I already know what it is. God’s tears. I step into the mist and cry with him as the black birds sing.