Carried by what remains
There comes a moment
when the ground beneath us
feels like it has vanished,
when the weight of silence
presses heavier than words.
In those hours of unraveling,
a lifeboat appears—
not carved of wood or iron,
but of unseen threads:
a friend’s steady hand,
a love that refuses to leave,
a faith that whispers quietly,
“you are not finished yet.”
These lifeboats are woven
from second chances,
from the courage to breathe again,
from hope that glows
even when the lamp is cracked.
No human walks untouched—
we stumble, we fall,
we lose ourselves in shadows.
But it is the lifeboat of the heart
that carries us back
to the light of becoming whole.
And perhaps that is what living is—
not the absence of breaking,
but the endless finding
of lifeboats
that remind us
we were meant
to survive.
R