Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!daffy!uwvax!uchinews!quads!moh2
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Poem (time frame:  after ST II; comments welcome)
Message-ID: <1992Oct26.193236.14126@midway.uchicago.edu>
Sender: news@uchinews.uchicago.edu (News System)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Mon, 26 Oct 1992 19:32:36 GMT
Lines: 44

On the Death of a Friend

Captains aren't supposed to cry.

Spock once said that he
	had lost more than most men could endure
	--lost loves, lost friends, lost enemies...
He hid the pain, behind the "command" face,
	or behind that twisted half-smile
	that took the place of tears.
Friends beloved, and long gone,
Mourned in silence, because
	the captain must be strong for his crew.
Painful wounds that time
	had, at least partly,
	healed.

But how to heal this wound?
The emptiness created by the loss of his second self.
This is one pain I cannot help him through.
I hurt too much myself.
Spock is dead.
And the captain continues to command, as he must.

But soon, soon he must find time for tears.

He may not recover from his death;
	there was always that possibility...
But without tears he will not.
I know that, as a doctor, and as his friend.
And I am afraid.

For you see,
Captains,
Captains aren't supposed to cry.

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
-- 
The autumn leaves are falling like rain.
Although my neighbors are all barbarians,
And you, you are a thousand miles away,
There are always two cups at my table.		 - A T'ang Dynasty poem