She let go

In this poem I hear the the­me of attach­ment, how we insi­de us resist in ever new turns and cir­cles, to let go. In the end let­ting go is like a leaf in autumn, ripe for the fal­ling, let­ting in the end may­be some­thing that is near enough some­thing that is hap­pe­ning all by its­elf. The Practice of let­ting may form a gate­way to deep spi­ri­tua­li­ty.


The poem was writ­ten by Safire Rose.  She fights for the rights of discri­mi­na­ted peop­le, offers trai­nings, accom­pa­nies peop­le in the dying pro­cess and much more. (web­site)


She let go.

Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of fear. She let go of the judgments.
She let go of the con­flu­ence of opi­ni­ons swar­ming around her head.
She let go of the com­mit­tee of inde­cisi­on wit­hin her.
She let go of all the ‘right’ rea­sons. Wholly and com­ple­te­ly,
without hesi­ta­ti­on or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyo­ne for advice. She didn’t read a
book on how to let go… She didn’t search the scrip­tures.

She just let go.
She let go of all of the memo­ries that held her back.
She let go of all of the anxie­ty that kept her from moving for­ward.
She let go of the plan­ning and all of the cal­cu­la­ti­ons about how to do it just right.

She didn’t pro­mi­se to let go.
She didn’t jour­nal about it.
She didn’t wri­te the pro­jec­ted date in her day-timer.
She made no public announ­ce­ment and put no ad in the paper.
She didn’t check the wea­ther report or read her dai­ly horo­scope.

She just let go.
She didn’t ana­ly­se whe­ther she should let go.
She didn’t call her friends to dis­cuss the mat­ter.
She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.
She didn’t call the pray­er line.
She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it hap­pen­ed.
There was no applau­se or congra­tu­la­ti­ons.
No one thank­ed her or prai­sed her.
No one noti­ced a thing.

Like a leaf fal­ling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no strugg­le.
It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.
It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of let­ting go, she let it all be.
A small smi­le came over her face.
A light bree­ze blew through her.
And the sun and the moon sho­ne fore­ver­mo­re.

— Reverend Safire Rose