My hands gripping the white of her dress,
my body shaking,
from fear,
from stress.
I saw her taking her dying breath,
too late to hear her,
only arriving after my legs gave out.
In the field we sit,
my hope,
dying bit by bit.
Yet giving up is not it,
picking myself up.
Standing in the church,
blue, red, yellow,
all at my side.
Together we dance,
together we sing.