Tender Aftermath; a poem

It is no longer a crushing weight,

grief; a companion I’ve learned to know.

Timeless and fragile, it lived in my shadow,

teaching the art of letting go.

Fragments no longer find their form,

glass shards cannot be stitched whole,

but in their new arrangement, I see the beauty

of a life that’s learned to soften its hold.

Grief is not a prison, nor a chain,

it is a passage, a rite, a necessary flame,

and when it burns through, the heart remains-

not as ashes, but richer to have lived in its name.

In this world, no one is spared the weight-

all bare battles, quiet or loud,

sorrow, inevitable, arrives and departs,

there’s peace in surrender, head bowed.

A gentle unraveling of love and longing,

makes way for faith in what’s to come,

for in the tender aftermath of loss,

new hope stirs in wake of the setting sun.

Grace visits us in the places we break,

in every trial, the soul will wake.

to feel the pain is to learn its song,

and in its rhythm, we each grow strong.