Under a Witnessing Sky

The cloth is tired—
not broken,
but worn thin.

Edges frayed
like trust,
handled too roughly,
too often.

Stars still hold—
echoes of a distant galaxy bearing witness.

We wade through an uncertain future—
prices at the pump rising,
prescriptions slipping out of reach,
and voting rights under assault.

It would be easier
to turn away—
to armor up,
to self-medicate,
to go numb.

And yet,
something primordial,
imperfect,
and sacred
still remains— even as we lick our wounds
and debate next steps.

So we go on—
grieving, but not in despair,
finding our footing,
finding our voice,
as our children watch,
learning what courage looks like,
what fearlessness requires,
and what sacrifice asks of us.