Letting Go

a poem.

Loosen the grip.
Let go.
Put it down.
Surrender.

I hear the whispers of these words
echoing in my mind.

I hear them
through the collective,
through the constant advice,
through songs— again and again.
So why is this lofty concept still so hard to grasp?

I can’t let go...
it would mean loss,
and the other side of that loss
is a mystery I’m not ready to face.

It would mean diving into the unknown,
feeling the void,
the emptiness
of what was once filled with tension.

But maybe—just maybe—
the tension, the gripping,
is what’s keeping me from
what I truly desire.

Something shifts. 
I accept what the loss might bring.  

Then finally —somehow—
I released.
After years of tug-of-war,
I let go of the rope.

I came to a meeting point:
either I let go
or I continue suffering.

My back collapses onto cushioned grass,
exhausted from the hardened grip.

My hands, battered by the rope—
from the holding,
the pushing,
the fighting.

I let go into the abyss,
and all that’s left
is the empty void—
the vastness of the unknown—
where I am left
only to trust.

To trust in what I cannot see—
my prayers,
my hopes,
my dreams.

As I let go, I trust in God’s infinitude—
in the possibility
that the holding itself
was never meant to last
more than the initial game.

I held on too long,
tried too hard,
pushed too forcefully.

I had the chance to let go, 
to end the struggle—many times. 

But it wasn’t until I was finally honest with myself,
until I chose myself,
until I stopped reaching for what wouldn’t hold me,
stopped begging for it to change,
and no longer agreed to suffer,
that I finally surrendered
and released the rope.

Love,

Natalia

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