Moving Pleasantly the Fuck On

It’s time to let go,

the world whispered to me.

 

I settled back in my seat

the plane taking off

Fifteen – A by my elbow, empty

and I slid the window up

just to see:

landscape of gray, wings of flight

tiny houses grow smaller and

trimming of trees, pool edges

no longer in sight.

People’s lives losing shape

beneath me. 

 

It’s time to let go,

the world whispered to me.

 

I grabbed my bag from the bin

winter jacket pulled

through the straps

and hurried alongside the others

out the door, through the streets:

the ghost in my skin

weaving outside and in

leaving shivers from wisps

slipped through me. 

The past waving goodbye

from frosted panes

the inside

of a home that I’ll never see. 

 

It’s time to let go

my heart whispered to me. 

 

And if not to let go

can you simply

just let it be?

 

I opened the door to Twenty Seven and

standing inside

I realized

this moment is mine

and has been all this time. 

The world shakes her finger

reprimanding my mind:

no plane, no pane, no automobile ride

will change who I am 

will shake down 

all that’s inside. 

 

It’s time to let go

I whisper to me. 

 

And all the world responds

by moving pleasantly the fuck on

and I have the room

to just breathe. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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