Remains

I go to the earth, to the forests you never knew,

lean against trees old as sorrow, listen to the wind

moving through leaf and stone,

the relentless, rooted quiet of it all.

There, I learn to carry you

as the land carries its own scars,

open, exposed to rain and sun,

yet unbowed, wearing loss like a weathered bark.

And though you are gone,

you remain, haunting the wild places,

as I speak you back to the world,

one word at a time,

until your silence becomes a part of the air.