(c) 7/17/2021
I hold onto every grudge
as though
it is my last possession. Clutch
disappointment
as if each small
humiliation were a building block
in my fortress. Such shiny
things!
For a moment. They tarnish
and I scour away for days
to bring each back to its
original luster.
And sometimes I find it
challenging
to keep "grasping" in my
resume, to prioritize regret.
To not replace bitterness with
alternatives:
a glimpse of koi in the pond,
licorice tea,
or the scent of baby
powder, though that too
can be dangerous with
asbestos.
Someone said, “Make this
your year for letting go.”
She became another
relationship that failed my expectation.
Isn’t that what betrayal
is? It wasn’t easy, but I let her go.
Such tolerance I have for
discomfort,
for sour rage, and inflammation.
Other children swing
inverted, heads upside down,
hair brushing earth,
feeling free.
Others surrender when surrender
is optional,
accepting that time and
distance offer clear footing.
I once felt bound, too.
I know the world has not
changed. I’m no longer sure when I did.
