When the Sky Wept
The sky watched over the world in silence,
a guardian stretched from edge to edge,
holding the weight of every heartbeat,
every whispered prayer that never left the lips.
It saw the laughter that never lasted,
the wars that stained the soil below,
the children reaching up for stars
they’d never be tall enough to touch.
And when it could no longer bear
the ache of what it witnessed
it broke.
Not in thunder or rage,
but in quiet surrender.
Its tears fell like confession,
soft and endless,
washing the dust from forgotten graves,
tracing silver lines down glass and leaf alike.
Each drop carried a story:
of a promise left unkept,
a name whispered to no one,
a mother waiting by the window.
The earth didn’t flinch.
It simply opened its arms,
letting the sorrow sink deep,
turning grief into green again.
And somewhere, in that trembling stillness,
the sky exhaled.
It had cried enough to remember
and the world, for a moment,
looked a little more forgiven.
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