When you clench your fist so tight,                     Nails dig into flesh, and wrist bones ache.        It's more than just holding on to what's enclosed in your palm,                                                  It's the weight of what you have refused to let go.

You bend your fingers and have them obscured from sight,                                                      As you move around, you try to conceal the pain that grips you tight.                                              To let go seems very hard,                                          The call to open your hands manifest as an impossible endeavor.

If you think you can't unclench all at once,     Start with one finger at a time.                                With each finger you manage to lift,                     A part of your palm is being unveiled.

Gradual relief seeps in, like dawn's light,          As you release the burdens in your heart.        Whether memory or person, let it go.             And find solace in the space that grows.

This, dear one, is what healing looks like,            A slow unfolding, a gentle like.                            Unclench, breathe, and let the light in,            And know that healing is a possible process.