A raw, honest poetry collection about infertility, faith, and hope that survives heartbreak.In Hands Still Open, C.L. Cossette writes with unflinching tenderness about the sacred ache of trying to conceive-the waiting, the breaking, and the quiet endurance of love that keeps believing anyway.For anyone who has ever prayed, hoped, or dreamed for a miracle that didn't come when expected-these poems are a hand to hold in the waiting.