ECHOES WITHOUT ANSWERS

 

Grief is not loud in my life.
It does not scream or shatter glass.
It sits in the space between my ribs,
breathing softly,
like it belongs there.

I have learned to carry it gently,
like a cup filled too close to the brim,
careful not to spill
what I no longer have the strength
to clean up.

There were words
I folded into silence,
stitched into the lining of my chest.
They live there still;
unspoken, unheard, unforgiven.

Sometimes I wonder
if they echo in another world,
if somewhere
you heard me
and chose not to answer.

I go on;
not because I have healed,
but because the world
does not pause for broken things.

And yet,
in the quietest moments,
I still turn;
as if you might be there,
as if grief
might finally loosen its grip
and let me breathe
without remembering.