She doesn't speak.
She feels.
She doesn't advise.
She sits.
She doesn't wait.
She's not death.
She's memory.
She's every silence that ever held me tighter than any scream.
She's grief without demand.
Presence without judgment.
Genderless, but unmistakably woman.
That sorrow that doesn't ask for explanation, only sits with you.
I know her. Behind, beside and within.
She was there, when I wasn't.
Years of silence, isolation and absence.
Something, someone, stayed.
This poem goes out to anyone who has ever abandoned themself to keep going.
To keep living, even without hope.
You are still here,
…we are all still here.
Photographs were professionally shot and edited by Stevie J
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