Letting Go

She looks down, down, down –

down to where the happily never afters

drop like curdled dreams onto the

 brittle bones of yesterday’s yearnings.

She’s tired –

so, so tired of juggling dying hopes and

broken visions;

 today, she’s letting go.

She watches each relic twirl its death spiral,

find finicky autumn breath

and sink beneath the weight of regret.

The seeing triggers tears.

She mourns,

crying crisp leaves,

showers of  decay

to soak her roots.

Her branches, bare finger-prayers,

point to the God beyond the Harvest Moon;

here,

in her loss,

the letting go will be redeemed.

The broken stems will one day

feel fresh sap stir.

Her new dreams will be  born fully alive –

newly-minted green hatchlings,

a verdant and  magnificent cloak

to shade parched soul.

But first,

she must let go.

So today,

she will mourn well.

Letting go

will give her more

than withered hopes.

Her grip slips,

and her fist

embraces air.

She looks up, up, up –

up to where her best soul

floats,

tethered to

the God beyond

the Harvest Moon.

*

Six months ago today I posted my first poem.  This wasn’t designed as a poetry blog – but has morphed into one on its own terms.  Here’s to letting go of old expectations, in order to embrace new ones!