Hidden Majesty

Alas, winter chill,
you cold-hearted soul;
you interrupt my
intake of reverie.

In sweet, sweet sorrow 
I clip the last blooms of fall --
wildflowers glowing in
fuchsia, crimson, burgundy and linen.

This daybreak, just past the first frost,
the browning of burn now
presses their edges.
alas, valiance on display until the very last, 
but for one.

     one

One set of glowing petals peeks from below,
having crept around and under;
its parent stem bent and broken to the ground,
yet, this one has found its way to shine upward.

… diminutive, brilliant, petite and perfect.

Why am I surprised this vine has bloomed so,
has outlasted its fellows 
there in its poverty and low estate?

Why?
In its meekness
Its humility
Its hardship
Its fortitude
All of these and beauty, too.

Why, did I presuppose?
its offering would be less,
its contribution trivial,
overlookable
pitiable
weak.

Look beyond!
the bridal bouquet awaits 
its day at the altar,
its fulfillment in the one
counted out,
now counted upon. 

there.
now

Let it go doesn’t free him, it frees you

Let it go doesn’t mean letting him get away with it.

It means you get to get away from it. Away from the anger and the angst. Away from the clenching and clutching. Away from the wrenching of your gut that says, This ain’t right; something needs to change here.

Let it go means you speak your piece and take your leave.

Don’t wait around to see how he reacts. Don’t insist on meeting every objection he musters. And certainly don’t square off to put the gloves on and punch his lights out.

What is to be gained from engaging? Every time before you’ve come away bloodied and bruised. Never have you changed his way of thinking into your way of thinking. Why do you tarry? Speak in staccato. Hit your note and get off of it.

Walk away a free woman. You have brought right to light. Let it do its work, and you go do yours. Go do what you came for. Which isn’t to change him. It’s to change the world. One voice, one word, one soul at a time.

Meet you on the road. Let’s talk about all those ideas that just came rushing into your mind because you are no longer consumed by him. by lies. by fear. That’s freedom. Not just freedom from, but freedom for…action. That’s the furthest thing from subservient I know. In fact, it’s downright subversive.

Letting go doesn’t let him get away with it. It lets you get on with it.

Let us be off. There’s much work to be done.