let me go

10 Aug

She comes to me with dragging feet, a mom’s heart in tow. In two?
No. More pieces than that.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Too much pain.
Too much road.
Too much.

Quiet convulsions.
Grief leakage.

She wishes.

Let me go.
Let me go.
What can you do with such exhaustion but hold it, whisper over it?


And now it’s a boy in my arms.
Chubby legs eager to touch the ground,
eager to dance,
but not ready to hold his own
weight (wait?).

Legs in constant motion
driven by energy that would
drive a city.

And just what will these legs dance into?
He knows not nor cares.
Let me go.
Let me go.


Both are held.
Both are carried.
How different

And the same.

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Posted by on August 10, 2014 in Poetry



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