Dear Anakin,
It's my first day in this seemingly endless abyss of sand, heat, and misery, and I find myself slipping away.
Because what is the purpose if I do not have my brother by my side? You do know that, right? You know that you have, and always will be my brother. I will myself to continue everyday not because of the reminder that I lived and you... did not, but of the reminder that if I die this will all be for nothing. And your son... well, your son, he would be left defenseless. I've spent most of my day staring at your old sketches, or, sketch.
I remember when you were but a boy, only fourteen at most, and you drew me the most wonderful picture, it was the one of the white flower growing in a desert. I cling to that picture not only because it is one of the last relics I have of your existence but also as a motivational piece. I try my hardest to be that flower everyday, even more so as of today. As it seems I quite literally am going to have to 'bloom' in the middle of the desert to keep little Luke alive.
I must admit, Im not entirely sure how I'm supposed to survive with so little to go off of. I do understand why you would always complain about the sand. I never used to understand your complaining, or juvenile whining. Now I long for days of such innocence, I wish you were still that young man who would whine about wanting to fix R2 instead of going on a mission. I remember one mission specifically you were whining about, until you found out the young senator Amidala was involved.
That day in the elevator when you admitted you found me as a father figure I was... truly shocked. In the back of my mind I wondered if you despised me. I didn't know what was wrong with you, how could you say that when I had failed to teach you in so many ways?
Didn't you know that anyone would be a better teacher? Truth be told I felt unworthy, you were a breath of fresh air in the constant flow of politics and war we all seem to be so used to.
So of course I thought of you as a son, or brother, I cannot describe it. I understood you in a way I don't think anyone else did. Even toward the end.
Believe me when I say I did understand.
Your sympathizer,
-Obi Wan.
YOU ARE READING
Lost Star Systems
PoetryBecause even though he's not dead. He's lost. Or: a series of letters Obi Wan wrote (but never sent) to his lost brother after his fall to the dark. (set between revenge of the sith and a new hope)
