We hold on too tightly.
Not because we are cruel,
but because we are afraid.
Afraid that if we loosen our grip,
something essential will vanish.
Afraid that loss means failure,
that letting go means we did not love hard enough.
But love was never meant to be a clenched fist.
Love that clings will choose harm over loss.
It will stay even when staying hurts.
It will confuse possession with devotion
and safety with truth.
Love that is whole chooses differently.
It chooses life.
Even when it costs.
Even when it means stepping back
and trusting that what is alive can move on its own.
Sometimes the bravest thing love can do
is open its hand.
