On your grave, today, there was
a sun ray that wouldn't leave.
I often grieved
in unfamiliar ways.
Timid ways.
I dug graves for
your words, and stitched
the part of my heart
that hurts for you
with yarns of a new life.
But memories float
to the surface
in roundabout ways.
Unanticipated ways.
They dug out your words,
and ripped my heart open.
So I listened to you today.
You sounded like a
breeze that slipped away from
a distant universe.
For the first time in a long time,
you were there to touch
my tears with your thumb and
wipe them away. You were
there to cradle my heart,
until it stopped hurting
