When They tell you
When one day they tell you
that someone you love
has but weeks to live,
all shifts to another orbit,
time unravels, its threads distorted,
and eternity’s breath grows near and sharp.
Memories rise like unearthed roots,
joy and sorrow entwine,
weaving a fragile veil of light.
Silence becomes a blade,
and each moment trembles with questions:
Where will they drift?
Where will they dwell?
When the final breath
becomes the wind’s offering,
where will it carry them?
Your helplessness unfolds,
a boundless sea without shores.
And so you whisper
that sacred name you hold.
You pray—
not to keep them,
but to release them,
that the mystery may fulfill itself,
that love may transcend into the eternal.
You, who are powerless,
plead for the strength to remain,
step by trembling step,
on the brink of the abyss,
as God, merciful weaver
of the invisible,
gazes tenderly upon you.
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