Creating Peace From the Pieces

It’s time that I let you go. With every shard of my being, every fragment of my grieving soul, I want to carry you here. I want to hold you, to hear you, to touch you, to watch you become and grow. But what I desire is irrelevant. This broken vessel I reside in is far too filled with peril hazardous to your safe arrival or even survival. My heart – no, not my heart – every atom of my living self crumples to the cold, hard floor of truth as I admit to a decision reality made long ago. Faith and hope that I could overcome science and bring you to me, must be transformed into a different faith and a new hope. As I reach up for even a mustard seed of faith that I’ll one day understand why I was forced to let you go, I simultaneously fumble in the darkness for new hope. Hope for what, I cannot fathom. With slow determination, I discard the ruptured amnion of hope that has for decades protected a sweet dream. I concede that your voyage here cannot be. I will allow you to slip through my heart’s fingers and drift away instead, on a river of my own tears. Goodbye, little love.