letting go is an exorcism.
it's standing on a bridge in the mountains
in the black of the night
and screaming to the stars as you throw
that necklace they gave you out into the canyon.
and you watch it fall into every bit of the black below
just to make sure to yourself that you will never, ever hold it again…
to make sure you understand that they will never, ever hold you again.
and it's chewing them out of your heart the way you used to bite down into their chest,
and with that same intensity you used to feel when you were that close to them.
an excruciating. exorcism.
burning it all down and leaving it all behind
and gutting yourself inside out
until you remove every last trace.
but sometimes… letting go is just noticing.
a little change in your breath. how it comes a little easier from your lungs.
how you feel just a little different in your skin, like it holds a little less memory of
their fingertip touch and a little more texture of who you are.
and then sometimes… it's finally surrendering.
giving in to the loosening of your grip on what you can no longer hold on to because
it just hurts too. much. to keep holding on.
so you decide it might be ok- it might be essential to start letting go.
and you let go just a little bit. and then a little bit more.
and you let it fall through your fingers
again and again and again
until you finally feel free.”
– butterflies rising
» the butterflies rising poem sometimes, letting go is an exorcism, is in her book ‘she's flowers and fire' and was originally published on the butterflies rising poetry blog