For grief.

You sit down. Something in you is missing, and the chair holds you anyway.

Begin here.
The room. The breath. The fact of still being in the room, breathing.

You do not have to be brave for this prayer.
You only have to be here.

Now — name it.
Out loud, if you can. In your chest, if you can't.

She is gone.
I am angry that she is gone.
I do not know how to do today.
Whichever one is true.

Let it stand in the room with you.
You do not have to solve it. The grief is not a problem. It is the shape love takes when it has nowhere left to go.

You are allowed to be unfinished.
You are allowed to be tired of being unfinished.
You are allowed to come back to this prayer tomorrow and say the same thing.

When you stand up, drink water.
The grief is still here. So are you.
That is the whole prayer.

Amen, quietly.