A Prayer for Grief That Doesn’t Have Words

God,

I don't have words for this.

Not because I'm holding back,
but because nothing I could say
would be the size of what I'm carrying.

Grief has taken up residence
in my chest, in my hands,
in the small moments
that used to be nothing at all.

I keep waiting to find the sentence
that will explain it.
It hasn't come.

If language is beyond me right now,
receive the silence instead.
If all I can offer is the weight of it,
let the weight be the prayer.

Don't ask me to describe this.
Don't ask me to be further along than I am.
Don't hurry me toward the version of myself
who has made peace with it.

Stay in the room.
That's all.

Be the One who understands
what I cannot say out loud,
who hears the parts of this
that never make it into words.

I bring You what's left of me,
unfinished,
unexplained,
and still here.

Amen.

“The Spirit helps us in our weakness... with sighs too deep for words."
— Romans 8:26

You’re welcome to sit with this as long as you need.