Let it Go

They say

let it go

like I’m holding a balloon.

As if grief were helium

and not a stone

lodged in my ribs.

They say

let it go

like I’m holding my breath,

holding on,

as if I need someone else’s permission,

to release,

to exhale,

to choose.

As if I haven’t been swallowing it whole

this whole time,

choking on shards of glass

and calling it coping.

Let it go.

Well...Why didn’t I think of that?

Every IT

is someone I once loved, deeply.

Something I lost.

It’s grief and guilt.

It’s shame and blame.

It’s decades of bottled-up emotions

pressurized inside my head,

a ticking time bomb.

It’s screaming into a room

that stayed silent,

except for the hum

of its own denial.

They said let it go.

They meant,

shut the fuck up.

Stop making noise.

Don’t shake the family tree

looking for fruit

that rotted long ago.

Let it go.

No accountability here.

Your truth isn’t welcome at our doorsteps.

Mask up,

for the safety and comfort of us all.

Let it go.

I’ve tried.

For fuck’s sake, I’ve tried.

I’ve walked it out,

journaled it out,

sang it out,

prayed it out,

loved it out,

fucked it out,

revised it,

burned it,

buried it,

screamed it into the ocean

until the tide screamed back.

And still,

the buzz in my bones,

a low-grade fever that won’t break.

It crawls up my throat,

scratches my belly raw,

rattles the cage of my breath.

It won’t let me rest.

How do you let go

of something wired into your body?

Your internal fire alarm?

My nervous system won’t release

this survival system

strapped to my insides.

It was welded into my why,

fused into my fears,

hammered into my marrow.

Even peace

can taste dangerous.

So no,

I’m not letting it go.

I’m letting it move.

Through me.

Out of me.

In the tremor,

the tears,

the animal sound

that finally splits the silence.

I’m letting it thunder its way free,

find exit wounds

that don’t leave me empty.

I’m speaking it out

the way storms confess,

loud,

wild,

necessary,

so the air can clear

and truth can finally breathe.

And then,

I’m letting it rise

like lightning leaves the sky,

bright,

dangerous,

unapologetic

for how loud it had to be

to finally be heard,

to rise above

the darkness

in the storm.