Blessed are you sitting among the shards of what could have been. It’s broken now, that dream you loved and it spilled out all over the ground.
Blessed are you letting your eyes look and remember all the hope you once had. All the love, all the beauty, all the future selves. You could have been.
Blessed are you telling your tears they can flow, telling your anger, it can speak. Letting this loss speak all its terrible truth to your soul.
Blessed are you, when mourning is the holy work of the moment,
for it speaks of what is real.
Blessed are we who mourn saying let me stay here in grief’s cold winter for as long as it takes.
That morning might be, to our hearts, the gentlest springtime. Let the thaw come slowly as we learn to live here in what is possible today.