When the gasp of tears
gets the best of you
and you’re rocked by the
impending loss and chasm,
when you’re undone in the parts
where it counts and torn
at the knees and throat,
bleeding into the folded
corners of roadmaps and photographs,
my love, I promise you’re
still heard. It’s not alright,
and I won’t tell you it is,
but here in this moment
where our hands collapse
together, and the prodigal
sunlight settles in your hair,
palms outstretched
to pull you up from the gravel,

breathe in;

You’ll make it that much farther
and just a few steps more-


To the one who needs to hear it most. Hang in there, dear one.



4 thoughts on “Espérance

  1. Ah, how your poetry does pull us up from the gravel upon which we have sunk. I check in every time I need a reminder. Come home soon 🙂


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