Life Unheld

There was a space made for you

before you arrived.

A spot within our hearts

a prayer without words.

You existed

not in weight or sound

but in becoming.

In the soft whisper of hope,

in plans that had not yet been made

how fragile they were.

The world did not change its pace.

Morning still came.

Dishes still waited.

Time did not pause to mourn.

Only the body knew

that something had ended.

You left without footsteps,

without a name spoken aloud,

without proof that could be pointed to

and yet, God knew you

before breath,

before form.

Grief learned a quieter language here

no ceremonies,

no shared memories,

only the private knowledge

that love had already begun

and had nowhere to go.

I mourn what you were

and what you were never given time to be.

I mourn the future that briefly stood open,

then closed its door without explanation.

Still, you were real.

You were carried.

You were wanted.

You were prayed for.

You changed the shape of this life,

even in leaving.

Where my body could not keep you,

heaven did.

That where my days could not name you,

God did.

You were held

Not by my arms

But His.

Rest now, little one,

in the small, unseeable place

safe in the mercy of Christ,

where no life is too small

to be made whole.