If only she could recognize me, she would realize how truly near I am.

Her wailing sobs silence my spiritual presence

I am…  the whistling wind

the rustling leaves

the melodious chirps at dawn

the rhythm of the lapping ocean

the gentle taps of rain on the window

the clanging of church bells

the creaks in the old porch swing

She sits on that porch swing, swaying in sorrow, holding head in hand; tragically unaware I sit beside her.