I carried you.
I carried you one step at a time.
I carried you until you thought I was too weak.
Then we stopped.
I dropped you.
I lost you.
Time passed. Time changed the narrative.
Pain shifted gears,
as distance grew from where we stood.
I wish we never stopped walking.
I wish I could’ve picked you up.
My arm was strong. My mind was weak.
I’m still walking.
One step at a time.
If you see me there — in another lane, on the other side —
know my broken heart still carries you.
::: AUTHOR COMMENT :::
This poem is for all of you who have lost.
The image was taken in 2011 with my Canon and rediscovered on my computer in 2026.
It’s a picture of my sister and her daughter. They lost each other somewhere along the road.
The story told here is mine — an outside perspective, carried by a mother’s strength.