In halls where echoes softly tread,

Where sorrow’s veil is gently spread, 

We walk with hearts that seek to mend, 

Beside the dying, near the end. 

 Eyes that glisten, tears that flow, 

In silent rooms where whispers grow, 

We sit with families, hand in hand, 

In moments few can understand. 

To speak of love in times of grief, 

To offer solace, bring relief, 

Is both a gift and heavy strain, 

To shoulder well another’s pain. 

Empathy, a tender art, 

To heal the soul, to touch the heart, 

Yet in the giving, there’s a toll, 

A piece of self in each console. 

We see the final breaths depart, 

We feel the breaking of the heart, 

And in that space, between the tears, 

We stand as anchors in the fears.

 

Yet light can pierce the darkest night, 

And love can turn the wrong to right, 

For in the sharing of the load, 

We find new strength upon this road.

Though words may falter, voices break, 

Our presence here is for their sake, 

A quiet witness, steadfast, true, 

Through storm and calm, we see them through. 

 In every smile, in each goodbye, 

In whispered prayer, in sorrow’s sigh, 

We find the grace to carry on, 

To be the dawn when night is gone. 

 So let us cherish every breath, 

In rooms where love contends with death, 

For in this sacred, hallowed place, 

We hold the light of boundless grace.