Be Still Time

I’ve often heard the claim: Time is a healer
but I want it to slow, to stop.
I can’t be mended, patched up.
I am irreparable, like a shattered vase.
A crushed spirit.
I just need him to come home.

Time is not a healer.
It is a destroyer - wrenching me away
from his voice in the hall and his unassuming presence.
From him.

I don’t want time to dull my grief, to cloud my memories, to turn me towards brightness.
I want to remember – as if it was yesterday, as if he is here today,
just left to watch the sea – will soon return.

Be still, time.