Learning to breathe again,
because there is a new weight
so heavy on your chest
the labor to inflate your lungs
for the sheer act of existence
seems impossible
Learning to walk again,
because there is a hole
so expansive
you worry that standing will cause
all of your insides to come spilling out
Learning to talk again,
because your voice has been replaced
with silent cries of agony
from the words on your tongue
now forever left unsaid...
unheard.
Learning to be again,
because with all your wounds,
none are seen and
no one understands
the gravity of your ache, your pain, your trauma
This is what grief is like.
This is every day.
All the time.
Sometimes it’s lighter,
sometimes it’s the darkest it’s ever been
...until the next time.
But each day, all that is asked,
all that it wanted,
is a moment of care,
for someone may be struggling and enduring more than they think they can
...and yet they still do it.
They get up again the next day,
and face what gifts their grief brings them.
Courage. Creativity. Connection.
Just pause and always aim for kindness when presented with a choice.
It’s true, you never know what someone may be going through.