I know the way you are holding on.
So tight.
Even now, in this moment.
Each and every day, you hold on.
No matter what.
Fingers pressed into the seams of each day.
I know how hard you fight.

Often it feels like exhaustion has become a second skin.
Coming from deep inside you.
A part of your every cell.
Every breath.
Your body is heavy and your mind spins.
Restless and numb all at once.
A quiet, but also a loud ache.

Sadness and fear won’t win.
Deep within I know this to be true.
And I know you are pushing through the hours.
The minutes.
The seconds.
Through the many betrayals of sleep.
Relearning how to get up when your bones are done.
When it feels like your soul has given up.
Finished while the rest of you has to keep going.
I know you are holding way too many silent tears.
While a war wages inside of you.
A battle that you hide.
Quietly torturing your soul and mind.

I feel your pain.
I know it and that place far too well.
Where time keeps moving and the light feels far.
I know how impossible it can be sometimes,
to believe it could or will ever ease.

But it will.
I promise.

Because there will be a moment,
small or huge, that lifts your heavy heart.
You’ll breathe more deeply than you have in a long time.
It will catch you off guard.
And you’ll tightly hold it to your heart.
Then a smile will come.
One that is really you.
True, soulful, coming from deep within.

So hold on.
Keep fighting.
And when your strength runs thin, take my hand.
I’ll always be there.
With you, unshaken, believing, knowing,
that soon your next breath will be softer than the last.