Sweet, gentle heart,
I see in my mind’s eye,
You are warm and held,
Free to release that sight.
No need to hold that heaviness alone,
Our souls hold hands,
Our stories are sewn.
This tapestry is bigger than our eyes can gaze,
Our minds can hardly conceptualize,
The colors ablaze.
Stories of our ancestors arrive to the present,
Wanting to be heard and known,
Longing to hold resonance.
Names spoken aloud,
Stories cherished,
Memories resound.
They are us,
We are them.
When they leave their bodies,
We transcend.
Creating, continuing the weaving of this unfolding,
Remembering all the time,
That what we are holding,
Is a continuum of energy that never really ends,
Hands held together,
Hearts interlocking and love suspends.
May you honor your loss,
To truly know what you have gained,
Every teardrop is an ode,
A reminder of praise.
Love,
Gavrila Nikhila
you are whole, complete, and perfect. 
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