Grief, Rewritten In The Stars

My grief rose one night,

and slipped from my chest like a small

trembling moon.

I thought my grief would break me

but instead it somehow learned to glow,

orbiting closer with every breath I survived.

Now, I see grief for what it is,

a fallen star that I picked up with my bare hands.

One still burning with the memory of everything I’ve lost.

Grief doesn’t vanish, it constellates.

Grief sketches new patterns across the dark and teaches me that even my sorrow can learn the language of light.

So, when I look up now I realize that I was never meant to erase the ache,

only to let it become..

something mythic

something sacred

something mine.