Somewhere I read about love as an open hand or a closed fist.
In the case of the latter, it makes me feel sick,
like grabbing onto something that doesn’t exist.

I realized that gripping is what I’ve been doing,
since the first time I was scared it was you I could be losing.

But in grabbing onto you,
I lost the purity of our original view;
an open palm from which we both grew.
I think that’s why, at first, we flew.

Recently, I couldn’t see past my clenched first.
Now, I’ve only made worse what was already distressed.
I wish I’d seen what my shaky closed hands already suggest.

I’ve heard when you love something, you must let it go.
When I look and my open palm, I finally know:

I want you light and free
whether that’s with or without me.

I will think of whatever this was like a dream.

With these words,
I reveal to you my palm;
arriving full circle
at a bittersweet so long.