The Fallen

I look down 
His eyes had nothing
Expressionless
His body
Stiff, as a board
Will I see those brown eyes again?
Will I hear his raggedy voice calling my name?
I held his hand
The hand was cold
I keep staring, staring at his face
Is he on vacation?
Did he meet his destination into heaven?
Or did he go to the mighty depths of the underworld?
Where is he now?
Is he lost?
Will I find him again?
Is he alone?
Is he afraid?
So many questions
And yet, no one can answer them
What the mind of a nine year old can do
And yet, as I gaze at him
My eyes don't want to water
I never cried
Deep in the mighty depths of my soul however, 
I cried
I cried, like the whole of Niagra Falls plowed down
But the one question is...
When is it my turn?