Letting Go is lie-awake kind of thing,
born of a midnight hour,
felt in a feeling body,
like an endless pool of questions,
with ripples of things not easily fixed,
a visceral pull of gravity
on grounds that wouldn’t shift,
a long reminder, after everything, that
you tried everything.
You tried everything.
And through all of the trying,
you are now in the stillness
that follows all of your effort.
You wonder what comes next,
and against time, you wait.
Through time, you wrestle,
and around time, you wonder.
But perhaps, with time,
you begin to sense:
morning is still coming,
and maybe, after everything,
that means something.
The air is changing around you…
Not everything is suddenly “fixed”
nor conveniently makes sense,
but with dawn, there is
the faintest sense
of something
starting
to loosen.
Your new set of wings
are still coming in.
And even though
Letting Go
still has questions of its own,
the colors that fill the early-day sky
are not tricks of light,
no, they are not tricks of light
but flickers
of possibility,
release,
and finally flying free.
To fly free,
after everything,
high above the trees,
is how bravery opens up,
like the brightest chord rising up
from the shadowy center of the guitar,
like a vibrant sunrise, unapologetic
after a night that knew no stars,
like a hope that feels slow, yet is still observable
even before it travels far,
like a Yesterday giving in just enough
for you to become a little more of who you are.
Letting Go
feels different
on some mornings,
and surrender becomes a song
you can breathe.
And I hope it is here
that Letting Go
does not make you feel weak,
but brave,
hopeful,
and free.
I hope
letting go
does not
make you feel weak
but brave,
hopeful,
and free.
MHN
