DEATH Poem: When I am Gone, by Lara Al-Bitar

One day,
the wind will whisper my name,
soft as a breath, light as a sigh.

The echoes of laughter,
the weight of my words—
they will linger, though I have flown.

Do not miss me for the face I wore,
nor the voice that time will fade.

Miss me in the quiet moments,
where my touch still gently stays.

In the book half-read upon your shelf,
in the song that feels like home,
in the warmth of hands once held,
in the kindness left unsaid.

I will not vanish,
not truly,
not yet—
for love does not die, it roots, it grows.

And if I am to be remembered,
Let it be in the hearts I chose.