For Tini
There are presences that don’t fade,
even when they no longer speak.
You are one of those silences,
the kind that pass through days quietly,
yet leave traces everywhere.
I remember the suspended moments,
your voice when it wavered between fragility and strength,
the simple gestures, the soft light falling on your face
when you spoke with your hands,
when you looked at the world as one looks at a painting they don’t yet understand.
You carried a quiet storm,
something deep that others could hardly see,
but I felt it,
through every note, every silence you let live.
I didn’t know how to hold the thread.
I didn’t understand how far the shadow went.
But you were there.
And what you gave, even in fragments,
stays with me.
I don’t write to bring you back.
I write so you stay alive somewhere,
between the lines,
between two memories.
T.
