I stand at the back of the room and watch as he assumes the leadership of the group. I am supposed to be the leader, the one they all look up to, but tonight he has taken my role.
His voice soothes, reading aloud words of hope and sorrow, anger and grief, love and loss. He talks of those lost in the attack, those we knew, those we loved, those we never had the chance to know.
There are four candles behind him. As he lights each one, he tells us why he has it there. One for sorrow. One for remembrance. One for faith. One for hope.
When he approached me about this, I couldn't believe it. We are on a mission to find those who did this to us, who attacked our people without warning or remorse. The people who are planning on attacking us again if we don't stop them.
Still, I cannot deny my lover much, and I let him hold this memorial. Not everyone is here, some are on duty, some refused to come. Still, the room is full and emotions are high. People are crying, holding each other in support. Yet there is a sense of purpose, a feeling that people are moving past their grief and into the purpose of the mission. Determined to succeed, but no longer driven by the blind anger that could destroy us through mistakes.
This is what Malcolm wanted to accomplish. To bring the crew together, to get them thinking about the future - not just the immediate future, but the future when the mission is over, when we return to Earth and have to face the bitter truth of loss again.
Malcolm picks up a PADD and begins to read, and I listen to the words of the poem.
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --- but the best is lost.
The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
He is right. We are not resigned. We are strong. We will survive this mission, and we will survive the harder mission of rebuilding our lives.