They nestle us in gentle arms and nurture us through the tears, holding us beneath rustling wings of time, until we breathe again. They make a path we can follow and we rise slowly, shaken, but intact. We walk the trail of tears they've left, then one day we notice the tears are but the softness of a star, the sparkle of a deeper sea shining under a moon crafted from the depth of our love. That is when joy creeps back. When what we've lost stands whole and near, and a quiet singing fills the void.
Nothing is quite the same.
We've been to the belly of life and found it leads back to the eyes and heart. We look up and see the sister that can't scream and we nestle her in these unseen wings and tell her the twisted story life has woven in our soul that made us stronger than we ever wanted to be. And we smile, because it is ourselves we've learned to rock, to walk, to sing to. It took time, but we've returned. We need to tell the stories that engraved our names on the dark side of the moon.