is the gentle release,
not so much a prying of fingers
as becoming water-like,
slipping through
like current through seaweed,
the lack of thrashing
leaving my ankles free
A kindly goodbye
to the ghosts of unfruitful hopes,
directions untaken, positions outgrown
and a soft reaching forward
towards what is not solid yet,
whisper embrace of what isn’t yet known.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 19, 2017
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