DiaBigelow

He is sitting on a stone in the middle of nowhere,

knees pulled up, face hidden in his own arms.

No one drew the water around him moving.

It is just there, holding the stone still.
I know that posture. I have made my body

into that same small shape on harder days,

arms wrapped around what's left of myself

like I could hold the missing pieces in by pressure alone.
I used to pray standing, hands lifted, certain of something.

Now I pray like this — folded inward, barely audible,

the kind of prayer that doesn't perform for anyone,

not even for whoever might be listening.
I cannot find the person I was before you left.

I have stopped looking in the obvious places.

She is not coming back the way she was.

That is simply true, and I am learning to hold it as true.
The mist around the stone does not lift for him.

It does not need to lift for the prayer to count.

He stays curled there, breathing,

which on some days is the whole of the prayer.
I have made peace with not understanding this.

I have not made peace with missing you.

Those are different things.

I am learning to let them both be true at once.
— May God Grant You Always

A wise old owl lived in an oak
The more he saw the less he spoke
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?

Good morning gentle readers! ☀️
{PS}

The words settle gently,
like something meant to be felt
more than understood.

There’s a quiet reassurance here—
not loud, not overwhelming,
just steady.

Like a presence that lingers
in the corners of your life.

In dreams that feel too real,
in moments you can’t explain,
in the subtle feeling
that you’re not alone.

Maybe love doesn’t disappear.
Maybe it just changes shape—
becoming something we can’t see,
but somehow still recognize.

And in those small, unspoken moments,
it reaches back to you.

—Tears of Memory

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I watch the sky in amber light 🌇
And wish you’d visit me tonight 💭
The words I long to speak remain
Unheard, like whispers lost in rain 🌧️

You were the soul who’d understand 🤍
Who held my trembling heart in hand 💞
Now grief becomes my closest friend 💔
A talk that never seems to end 🌫️

The sunset glows, but fades too soon 🌄
I see your shape beneath the moon 🌙
I tell you how the days have been
You answer softly in the wind 🌬️

And though you’re gone, I feel you near 🕊️
Your love still hums, so faint, so clear 🎶
In quiet talks that no one hears
I find you through my falling tears 💧

— Silent Tears For You