THE INNER ART OF LETTING GO
I no longer hold on tightly—
letting go is only a door away
if I let my sniper-trained eyes
close and get entirely unfocused.
I unclench my teeth and nose
like it’s smelling something
that surely no rose, and meet
the next moment as it comes.
If I let my senses be my guide,
I can be as awake as a toddler—
where everything is new again,
savoring each slow breath as if
I never breathed like this before.
I let my fingers do the walking,
and enjoy erotic calisthenics,
as I weep with joy practicing
the inner art of letting go.