When storms arise and skies turn gray,
And words feel empty, lost, astray,
Don’t search for phrases, don’t explain,
Just sit with them and share the pain.

No need for sermons, loud or wise,
No fixing tears, no analyzing cries.
A silent presence speaks the most,
A steady hand, a gentle post.

For in the weight of grief and strife,
It’s love that softly mends a life.
Not perfect answers, bold or grand,
But simply being—hand in hand.

MarkWaldrop