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The Quiet Let Go

She’ll forever grieve

By Colleen Millsteed Published 2 years ago • 1 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

She has understood the silence, the quiet letting go,

Felt the spaces between the continuum like a dark cloak of the night,

Grief has slowly spiralled out of control, the tears still flow,

Now she rests patiently, painfully, waiting for the light.

******

She has reached out begging for help, an abnormality for sure,

The load upon her shoulders is crippling her view,

She’s caged, trapped within her sorrow, she can’t find the right door,

Broken, beaten, courageously fighting for a break, long overdue.

******

She thought you’d never let her go, put up more of a fight,

A lesson in humility, a dash of unimportance, a slap in the face,

Her love so freely gifted has come back to bite,

Although she refuses to think of those years as a total waste.

******

She takes the pain to heart, while accepting there’s always a reason,

The time is not right, the hour in debate,

Your lives take a different path, a change in season,

It’ll never change her feelings for you; always love, not hate.

******

She wants you to know she’ll be okay, no need for you to stress,

She did her best, she knows that, feels it deep,

Though she’ll hold her broken heart gently, she will confess,

And there’ll be days when the best she can do is remember and weep.

******

Your lessons have been learned, your track takes a different direction,

It’s out of her comfort zone for now, but it’ll gain traction,

One day the pain will reside deeply and mostly forgotten, after much introspection,

And there’ll be days without thought, given enough distraction.

******

So it is that she now, metaphorically, stands in front of you, hand on heart,

Confessing the depth of her love for you as she gifts you your wings,

She’ll often think of you, your memories, in the years you are apart,

And she will forever send you silent hopes and dreams, to carry you through whatever life brings.

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About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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    Written by Colleen Millsteed