Letting Go
by Darren Stone

What a comfort it must be
to exist without confusion or yearning or pain.
To wake up without the ghost of her face.
To walk a day without her burned in my thoughts.

To be able to let her go.

What a world it must be
where one’s quest is not for love or passion or excellence.
Where there is no risk of failure because there is no risk .
So a broken heart is never an option.

And if I were to breathe the air in such a world -
this world without her name -
Would it be enough to fill my chest
and keep me alive?

And my mother tells me to let go and my doctor tells me to let go
and your friends tell me to let go and my friends tell me to let go
and some who think they are wiser tell me to let go
and those with more experience tell me to let go
and the healing books, the Singles groups, the other poets and a billboard,
the talk shows, the TV, the tea leaves, the totems,
Dr. Joyce, Dr. Ruth, Dear Abby, and Ray Charles,
the minister, the I Ching, a cheap hooker and now, the bartender
all tell me to let go.

And I have been bruised and beaten and tossed and torn
and handled like burlap and left in the storm
and I am already over the edge,
and clinging to a single
delicate
vine

and I have no intentions of
letting go.