The Hands of Grief

Grief is like a hand clasped tightly around my heart—

the pressure of sadness crushing me in its fist.

I want to feel it fully, to let it pass through me.

But grief doesn’t pass. Grief lingers.

With every trigger, the hand squeezes tighter.

Sometimes it loosens—

and I start to feel free.

But grief remembers me.

And again it holds on tighter.

But I’ve learned to be gentle with the hands of grief.

They’re not trying to crush my heart.

They’re only trying to protect it.

So be gentle with yourself.

Grief is a journey, not a wound to close.

You can’t heal all at once—

and maybe healing never fully ends.

But more than anything

You have to learn to sit with it.

To listen.

To hold it back

without fighting its need to hold you, too.