There is a certain trust
that is birthed, it seems,
when we let go of those things,
we are not meant to be gripping,
for the wind cannot carry
that which is so willfully tethered.
If we simply allow ourselves
to float and let go,
all that is meant for us individually
will work itself out.
I am in no hurry
and my hands are empty,
the pace and weight required, I think,
to be light enough to be picked up
by the breeze.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise