If the Spirit did not sigh for us, over us,
I wonder who would.
Who would hear our stories in their rawest honesty
and sigh in agreement, “Never again”?
Who would sit with us in the silence of shadows
and trace the dust of memories?
Who would hold out the bottle in an act of grace
saying, “Poured out for you,
in remembrance of them”?
Who would light the candles with us, each flame
representing one too many?
If the Spirit did not sigh for us, over us,
I wonder who would.
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