Tears line her eyes as she weaps yet again.
Pain seeps out of her pores,
and a broken heart bleeds through her shirt.
"This is for you," she said.
Time is not dependable,
we cannot trust it.
Life is cruel,
we cannot comprehend it.
Disease consumes us,
but we can overcome it.
"I'm so sorry," I said.
But who can take this pain away?
Such a power of ours, something so little
cannot subdue one's pain.
It makes our hearts wrench.
Why cant we help one stop hurting?
But do not fret, my broken-hearted love,
for someone has given me something.
He gave me a vision, an allusion;
He told me that everything would be okay,
That the angels would carry your sickened friend with them,
up to the place where hurting is put to an end,
where the brokenness is healed.
Do not awaken or cry, my dear;
for this will all be over soon.
Everything will be okay.
Everything will be just fine.
Just rest your head, my love.
Rest your weary soul.
And if you awake cold-heartingly,
you may borrow my shoulder to cry on...
and, here, let me take that bloody hankerchief for you.
I'll wash away the stains.