Paper Birds

They told me heaven took you home,
But left no map to where you’d gone.
The echoes of your voice remained,
The way you laughed, the way you hugged—
A soft lullaby in quiet air.

I folded birds from paper scraps,
With careful hands, I shaped the wings,
And dreamed of all the missing things.
If I could send them high enough,
Would they return with all your love?

I hoped,
Hoped the wind could bridge the gap,
That between your hands and your embrace.
Each year that passed I asked the wind,
“Will you return what once had been, my brother?”

But paper bends, and paper tears,
And grief is not a thing that fades.
It remains— a heavy gift.
It changes form,
It bends and it sways.

Yet still I will fold,
And I will send,
A thousand birds, again and again,
Until the sky is filled with proof,
That love transcends the touch of time.