almost

The sting of loss is like nettle - spreading
and attempts at removal do more harm than good
so we suffer

Loss - still something to which we can adapt if it's truly gone,
With loss, the road to recovery begins even if
the gate that opens it once held something so sacred,
now permanently closed...

But no one warns about almost loss,
That when it gets so close
The bruises on your forearm may fade
and your scars will glow white instead of pink
But the blood inside remembers
how fast the river flowed
when the gates were about to close

Knowing that the current can be controlled,
that maybe you have enough strength to keep it open,
but you don't care at the time
that you must give all that you have to keep it open

That's something you only realize after
After you reach the gate just in time
But no one else is there
so there you are, forever
the gatekeeper, trying to always keep it open