Grief

Grief doesn’t follow rules. It doesn’t arrive on time, and it certainly doesn’t leave when asked. It can be sudden and sharp, or slow and smothering. Some days, it feels like a fog that never lifts; other days, it crashes into you like a wave out of nowhere. There’s no “right” way to grieve, and no fixed timeline for when it should stop hurting. What I’ve come to realize is that grief changes you—not always in visible ways, but in quiet, subtle shifts beneath the surface.

When I wrote this haiku, I wasn’t trying to define grief—I don’t think that’s possible. I just wanted to capture one of the many moments it can bring: the stillness, the weight, the sense of being overwhelmed. Writing has helped me process those emotions in a way nothing else could. If you’re grieving right now, I hope you know you’re not alone. And if this poem speaks to you, I’d love to hear what it brings up for you.