There is a small patchwork journal in my lap,
I climb flights of stairs to reach the roof.
The sky is is the kind of blue only poets see today,
The cherry blossoms, the rough tiles under my feet.
Hearts of wood and water.
These are things worth fighting for.
Touch the Sky
Today, you tell me you found what you are looking for.
It’s always been a competition between us,
Who can outrun the other.
I’ve learned that some need to win,
And I am only able to swim to my other shore,
Across my own ocean.
This is my cross to bear,
And I smile because things grow from the ground up.
Sometimes, there is nothing more beautiful than reaching up to touch the sky.
I break a promise made to help lock up my heart.
And yet, I know there is no better way out than through.
Letting go is so hard, but clutching onto the balloon strings push redness into my hands,
And eventually, the pain of holding on is more than the pain of letting go.
So I will step back and watch the colors as they float into a cold blue sky,
Wondering what will become of memory, of snippets of time.
My heart is lighter, but the process is slow, and I have miles to go before I sleep.
Today I let the balloons go, in a clearing of wood and trees and happy things,
Take the lessons learned and release the mix of feelings, the sadness and the euphoria.
I will travel my roads, and if our paths cross, I will hold my head high and smile,
let the sun and the poems and the stories warm me,
Help me, to live and let go.