Beloved

It hurts, doesn’t it?
To see that which was beloved
slip away-
falling between the cracks of your fingers,
when they so desperately
wish to hold on.

At first, there are no words-
no emotion,
no anything inside
to describe the emptiness that now exists-
Nothingness fades to nothingness
and thoughts wander,
to wonder-
What would it be like?
To fall between those cracks,
to chase after that which was beloved,
to dive into the depths
and not have to return.

But no,
for even though the darkness
tantalizes the senses
with false lures of hope,
that which was beloved
is still beloved.
And it is still here,
even though it isn’t here.

There will come a day,
A day of the mending
of broken hearts

Until then,
carry on.
That which is beloved
will carry on
with you,
too.

in memory of Mom