Grief, Rewritten In The Stars

My grief rose one night and slipped from my chest like a small, trembling moon.

I thought it would break me

but instead it learned how to glow, orbiting closer with every breath I survived.

Now, I see it for what it is: a fallen star that I picked up with bare hands, one

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

Grief doesn’t vanish, it constellates: it sketches new patterns across the dark and teaches me that even 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 holy,

something mine.