anticipatory grief

moths orbit like lost memories;

their wings soft prayers.

whispering hope into the light

hanging softly by the front door,

waiting for the chance to be let in.

-

behind the frame, a family holds their breath

waiting patiently for the plane to crash,

for the drywall to start falling,

as the foundation crumbless beneath their feet,

they collapse into darkness.

-

their beacon recedes into another plane;

their existence barely hanging by a thread.

thoughts orbit the room like lost memories

hiding behind hands folded in prayer

dreading the time of death.

-

release the breath,

take a step out the door,

and take in the light.

like the moths dancing around the flame

find a reason to go on.