Sky's Voice IX

Even grief trembles

upon witnessing their sorrow.

The birds carry it in their wings,

passing it gently to the breeze.

And all eyes turn toward me.

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I do not turn away.

I accompany.

I witness.

I remember.

Their names are threaded into the clouds,

their stories read aloud to the stars.

The universe holds its breath.

We mourn.

We wait.