I Love His Ghost - A poem

I have a friend,
he still exists somewhere in that war torn vessel.
Sometimes his ghost comes forth from the back of his mind
and I glimpse his smile.

When my friend laughs,
it could feel like there is nothing else happening in the universe,
so free is his joy, that it need not echo off the existence of other things.
My friend has a big heart,
so big that one or more people could rest their heads there at one time.
My friend has a soul and it is a mansion built on intentions so pure,
one could swear it was made of water.
My friend can love.
His love is so that it is like a river that feeds the ocean of love
endlessly without any doubt.
My friend is vulnerable, his mind has been cut
by the blade of shame, its poisonous steel
leaves scars.
Scars that outweigh everything else that his heart desires.

My friend is proud.
So proud that he will break his back under the weight of these scars.
My friend is afraid.
So afraid that he cannot bear to make known to me his shame.
My friend is leaving me slowly and I did not notice.

My friend is lonely, he walks a journey forced
upon him by myriad circumstances out of his control.
My friend returns and he is empty,
there is only a ghost of the one I know.
My friend has eyes that reflect my helplessness.
I say goodbye to my friend

He lives between many worlds now.
To honour him, I love the ghost that is there.
I sing his songs and I love his ghost.