for S.

you were a delicate child, so
awake to the life and lives
that danced around you.
a dreamer with a wit
so sharp it stunned.

what night came into your world
when your father was taken
from you
so suddenly?
what hope was arrested from your heart
and where did faith fall to
from all the beauty you held?

you were a delicate child.
touched by every bloom, color,
and breath.
but none can live
untouched by death.
so fear spun each day into darkness
while hope grew frail and aged.
until you couldn't bear
the loving touch
of the world any longer.
or even the belief
that Another held all of its
glory, sharp edges,
(as well as your father)
in his arms.

You couldn't bear it.
you wrote beautifully about it
then you left it.