for Grace

she does not know what she means to me;

this tiny warrior,

this muse who makes me laugh

while all the world weeps.

she tells me her stories

teaches me of sacrifice and

shows me what love looks like.

and she will never tell you she is any good,

but one look at her paintings

almost makes me weep.

and when she laughs i think

that now i know what hope sounds like.

all lives decay into solitude,

all hearts break,

but this i know:

that the love of sisters lasts,

that we are infinite;

too fierce for any ending.


2 thoughts on “for Grace

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