I sorrow for your sorrow—
my hands cannot reach you,
my words cannot fix it.
I cannot shield you,
or chase the dark away.

I sorrow for your sorrow.
I break when you break—
but I am not beside you.
I can’t rescue the day.
I can’t say I’m sorry
in a language you’d understand.

Still—
I sorrow for your sorrow.
And in the stillness of my world,
I make space for your grief.

In my heart,
in my spirit,
I hang a lantern.
I shine what light I can
from across the miles—
and I sorrow with you,
until the sorrow can end.

Altruism
has
become
an old
film reel,
where grief
looked noble
and death
had meaning.
Now people
water
relationships
for their
own springs.

Cat in cardboard box,
having the time of his life.
He needs not much more.