In the quiet hours when time slows its breath,
we stand as guardians on the threshold of change
a loved one’s world unravels, thread by tender thread,
and we, the silent witnesses, hold what remains
To hold space is to become a sacred room—
a temple of stillness, a hearth in the storm
we offer no answers, no map through the gloom,
but a presence, a warmth, a soul-softened form
Here, grace is the language that silence speaks,
a touch of the hand, a glance that knows
it’s the balm for the weary, the strength for the weak,
the unseen embrace where compassion grows
And in this offering, we are changed in kind,
our hearts made mirrors, reflecting the light
of the courage it takes to stand intertwined
with another’s sorrow, their fight, their flight
For life, in its seasons, will ask us to kneel—
to witness beginnings, to honor goodbyes
to hold space for others is to learn how to feel
the breaking and mending within our own lives
So, be gentle, dear soul, as you carry this gift,
let kindness enfold you like snow in the air
for the weight of their story, the tides that they drift,
it will soften your edges and make love your repair
During the holidays, when hearts are more tender,
and change feels like echoes of years gone past,
let grace be the candle, let love be the sender,
of warmth that lingers, of light that will last
To hold space is to love without tether or claim,
a sanctuary built not of walls but of trust
and in honoring their journey, their joy, or their pain,
you, too, will be held—by the grace of what’s just
So breathe in the moment, let stillness remain,
and know that in holding, you, too, are restored
for love, in its essence, is not loss or gain,
but the sacred exchange where hearts are adorned–
Copyright © 2024 Sherley Delia | All rights reserved.
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