I wept so hard I could almost not dictate this.

I walk gratefully,
reverently,
into her house,
where my daughter’s guardian angel
stands watch.

Skin falls off
boiling plums
and young old bones
and her parents tell me
that they would give everything
to have their daughter back.
But since they can’t
they will give me what they can,
what their angel daughter
told them to give,
to make sure her friend,
my daughter,
doesn’t leave.

I stand on an island,
speechless.

It is only much later
that I can weep
tears of gratitude,
for I have already wept
tears of sorrow
for their loss.

Perhaps,
because of their daughter’s love,
voice,
inspiration,
and angelic soul,
they won’t have to weep
for mine.