We work, we play
We think we have it together
Then one day
We are forced to let go
of the lies and
recognize
Life is fragile.
We gather
our memories and our
hopes,
in a basket made of grass
that withers as our future swings
past.
We might try to hold
fast,
fingers clenched
white lipped, fear hanging
to a tree limb above
the cliff.
Then bit by bit
As control slips from our hands,
We open
our grasp
Choosing
to let go and
ride
the wild winds.
August 5th, 2011
Revisited March 2nd,
2026
Elena Huegel
