How come the world keeps turning
and time keeps ticking
when our hearts have stopped beating?
When you're told to say goodbye
is it better to wait for a miracle
only to be told that she didn't make the cut?
Or is it better to wait for death
and maybe be surprised by something miraculous?
Why do I keep referring to you in the past tense when I don't even know if you're alive or dead,
why do I assume you're gone,
why have I begun to prepare myself to see your chair empty,
your Star Wars mug neglected in the corner of the cupboard,
when I worship a God who can part the seas and shift the mountains?
Why do I wake up in the middle of the night, gripped by fear that you're hanging by a thread,
pleading with God to let you stay,
why do I begin my morning mourning, knowing you're dead and trying to swallow news so
impossibly devastating,
how can I laugh and feel that cruel spark of hope rekindle, think,
"Maybe she's still here. Maybe she she'll make it,"
when I've learned that a defibrillator can restart a heart
but can't revive a conscious,
when I've learned that hope can sprout wings
but can't always fly,
only to find myself sitting in the rain hours later, searching for you in the sky,
then waking up again during the early morning hours, urgent, fervently believing,
or rather, fervently wanting and trying to believe, there's still a scale to be tipped in your favor?
Note: I don't own any of the media used. All credit goes to their creators! I'll try to credit the artists if I know who they are. Please me know if you recognize any media used so I can give their creators credit.
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I'll Lose You in the Stars
PoesíaA collection of poetry and prose detailing a journey through youth and adulthood. Basically, this is a dump of old and new writing. Please comment your thoughts and constructive criticism! Let's help each other find healing and joy amongst the r...
