Held

The world had gone silent, the breathlessness of something massive gathering behind the horizon. The light fell strange, thin and gold, painting the ground with long shadows and dust. Clouds rolled low, pregnant with thunder. Trees stilled. Even the insects held their breath.

I stood at the edge of a field gone silver with dying grass, boots half-buried in the earth. The air held the weight of smoke and rusting iron. The sky had broken somewhere far off and was bleeding its way toward me. The collapse didn’t stir fear. It felt earned.

Let it come.

Let it take what was left.

Let the fire finish what time had already started.

The wind rose. It moved through the grass and rose against me. It carried dust, the dry scent of wheat, the sharp taste of rain being birthed.

There was no sound but my own breath and the low hum rising from the ground. The earth had its own sorrow, and tonight it sang it. My hands rested loose at my sides. My body felt thin, transparent.

I looked up.

Pale shafts broke through the clouds and swept across the field in slow, trembling arcs. Everything shimmered, the wheat, the fence, my skin. The moment stretched until the first thunder rolled across the hills. That’s when I saw it.

The dragonfly.

It moved across the field on a steady line, wings catching the last of the gold. It hovered just above the ground, then lifted and came forward. Its body was green cut with blue, sharp-lined and silent. It held in the air without effort.

It circled once, then steadied in front of me.

I opened my hand.

The dragonfly landed, light and exact. Wings folded. Legs settled. It stayed.

Its presence needed no explanation. It was enough to feel it there. Weight, stillness, breath. A single moment shared.

The trees bent in the distance. The sky deepened. Wind moved hard across the field, tearing leaves from their stems. My hand stayed open. The dragonfly stayed with me.

Stillness moved through my chest.

And in that stillness, I heard her laugh. Her voice moved through me, steady and close. She had waited.

“I’m here.”

I opened my hand. The dragonfly lifted, turned once in the air, and disappeared into the darkening sky.

I turned too.

Not toward something. Just forward.

The world held.

And I walked.