Actually, I'm not fine… blog

Today, would’ve been your due date:

Carrying Love Forward

I held a dream before it had a shape,
before my heart could name it,
before the world could notice.
A life imagined, a quiet hope
that lingered in the spaces between days,
in the silence that spoke louder than words.

Love made something fragile, fleeting,
and in its passing
I felt a weight I could not lift.
A hollow ache,
a shadow stretching across my chest,
echoing in moments I cannot escape.

I walk through streets of light and laughter,
see small joys in passing,
and feel the empty corners of what might have been.
Hope whispers,
but its voice is soft,
and fear presses against every breath.

Faith falters in quiet hours.
I reach toward something I cannot name,
searching for a hand I cannot see,
for a reason I cannot grasp.
Yet even in the dark,
small sparks flicker —
a glance, a memory, a breath
that reminds me I am alive.

Grief flows like a river
I cannot control,
yet I float on fragments of something enduring.
A touch, a smile,
a quiet devotion that carries me forward,
that insists I will breathe again.

And still, the question remains:
Do we chase the unknown,
risking the tides that might break us?
Or do we hold what is here,
marvel at the lives we’ve touched,
and let the world be enough
without the shapes of dreams we cannot reach?

Fear and longing intertwine,
anxieties threading through quiet moments,
but love whispers in ways that do not need words.
Whatever path we take,
we will carry it together,
we will carry devotion,
and we will carry the fragments
that make life luminous even in shadow.

I carry it forward,
not in certainty, not in answer,
but in breath, in presence,
in the quiet knowing
that hearts endure,
that love persists,
that even in absence,
something luminous remain