At the Line
She stood where life
leaned trembling against death,
where the world held its breath
and refused to choose a side.
She stood angry—
angry at the Lord,
angry at Gods,
angry at the universe
for daring to reach
for the one she loved.
But she did not move.
Though the weight of him
was more than hundreds of pounds,
though fear pressed harder
than bone and breath,
she wrapped her arms around him
with a strength no scale could measure.
She grabbed him from the darkness,
lifted what should have been impossible,
and carried him back
toward the narrow shore of living.
Her hands became a promise.
Her heart became a bridge.
And when the world said,
“Let go,”
She answered,
“Not today.”
So let heaven remember her.
Let the stars speak her name.
Let every silent corner
of the universe confess:
There are moments
when love becomes stronger than gravity, stronger than death,
when courage rises taller than fear,
when one soul refuses
to surrender another.
Her name is Susan—
and because she stood there,
because she held on,
because she would not move,
a life remained.
The one she loves now still remains