Carrying

I can feel your pain.

I see how heavy this has all become.

You don’t need another inspiring speech.

I refuse to ask you to pretend this doesn’t hurt in order to have hope.

I won’t insult your pain by pretending I know how this all ends.

I don’t know entirely what tomorrow holds.

But I do know this:

Your grief has not made you any less worthy.

Your weariness is not a measure of your faith,

Or your strength,

or your worth.

You don’t have to earn anything by staying optimistic all the time.

You are allowed to be tired.

You are allowed to ask for help.

You are allowed to hurt.

And if hope has become too heavy to carry today, let someone else carry a little of it beside you.

And until you can breathe again, I’ll help hold what feels too heavy to carry alone.