There is a darling softness
here in the heart.
A softness that holds my love for you
and all the times your smile
held me in safety.
I will miss you, always,
in the quiet.
My heart has grown into
so many pieces
of you.
In the shadow of love
is the aching
of fear.
And I hold you,
love.
I hold you
and your beautiful tears.
I saw her when I closed my eyes,
I felt her in the wind.
And I knew I had to tell her
how tired I am,
and how I never imagined
life would be so hard.
I had to tell her
how I am in love
with them, and with life.
But how tired I am, and how I miss her.
Oh, how I miss her,
oh, how I do.
I saw her when I closed my eyes.
I felt her in the wind.
The perfection of life is beyond the boundaries of good and bad, sad or happy.
2015. My fourth miscarriage. The loss of pregnancy at ten weeks.
The doctor looked into my soul and told me, ‘I know the obstetrician for you. Here are his details. If this was happening to my sister, I would be telling her the very same thing. Go to this man. He will treat you beautifully.’
Love.
Held by a stranger, through pain.
Never be afraid of the fullness of life.
Never be afraid to love beyond it all.
In my softness I hold this gift, for you.
A small slice of home,
and a tiny sun to shine
only on you, sweet friend.
This rain will pass,
it will pass on through the air.
And in your eyes I will find
the joy
lingering,
calling from the horizon of you.
And in my eyes, the shine of knowing.
Knowing that rain built the very rainbow
that now shields you, for life.
Knowing you always were okay.
Every moment.
Safe.
Loved.
And on your way.
Reality strikes hard, sometimes.
The pain.
The pain of others: it tears me to the bone.
The delicacy of life, its precious petals.
It all aches within this lithe human frame of mine.
Cold impermanence.
Startling truth.
Fragile life.
Sometimes it tears us.
And I know you don’t want to,
but let yourself see:
sometimes it tears us.
I will hold you when it tears you.
I will hold you.
I will hold you.
I have craved your whispering goodness.
I have known your shadows deep.
And here we sing
to a tender memory
of scattered and tumbling
diamond dust.
A silver breath
of life
incomplete.
Catch your aching memories
and hang them in a tree.
There they shall be beautiful,
for all the world to see.
brooke-cutler.com 