“Even here where the earth gives way, the heart learns to root deeper.”

It was built on what looked like stone.

Strong, unmoving, safe.

But stone can be deceiving.

Over time, it begins to whisper back to the sea,

grain by grain,

returning to what it came from.

From a distance, the house still shines.

The windows reflect the light,

the roof holds steady against the rain.

echoes of laughter,

But if you dare stand close,

you feel the tremor beneath your feet.

The earth is shifting,

the cliff surrendering its shape.

Inside those walls are memories,

arguments sharp as broken glass,

footsteps that once pressed into the floorboards

and then walked away.

The house holds them still,

but the ground does not promise to.

And yet,

love remains.

Not the kind that anchors the walls in place,

but the kind that drifts like mist,

carried by wind and tide.

Love that no longer clings to presence,

but transforms into distance,

into respect,

into silence that is still holy.

The house leans closer each day,

its weight too much for the cliff to hold.

And in the waiting,

You do not know the hour of its fall,

only that it is coming.

you learn to stand in stillness,

to send love out like a breath into the ethers,

trusting it will reach

even those who no longer sit beside you.

Because sometimes love is not received,

not returned,

not even recognized.

Sometimes love is simply released,

unbound by time,

unshaken by space,

a light traveling where it is most needed.

And so you stand,

watching the cliff crumble,

hearing the hush before the collapse.

Not afraid.

Not clinging.

Only witnessing.

Only loving.

Next week, the storm gathers again…

~Kerri-Elizabeth~

The fall has not yet come, but the silence before it is deafening. Next week, the storm gathers again…