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Writer's pictureAngela Connell

Letting Go

Walking softly along the sodden sandy embankment

My toes open, my soles bare, 

I marvel at the swirling patterns, of minerals, clay, charcoal and stone.

More than millions of grains

More than billions of years

Present here, in layered composition. 

It’s like standing on my great, great, great, great, great grandmothers 

Cool, earthen body. 

I wept. And knelt in silence, 

Offering a smile through tears of gratitude, 

My hands pressed in and awoke all senses, 

And the blueprint of all hands.

Inhaling deeply, I was infused with all of our past lives,

In the silken, sandy soil of the riverbed. 

This quiet, smooth underbelly of the river, 

Molded firm, steadfast and true.

Stones of the past in stillness, at rest, 

While the river, and life flows on. 

I forgave myself my misperceptions,

I forgave myself my shame, 

I forgave myself all of my perceived mistakes, 

Of words unsaid. I forgave myself. 

Barefoot and brave. 

I had forgotten. 

For such a long, long moment.

What was now remembered in these stones. 

We are these foundations. We are the riverbed.

Our cool, earthen body.

Containing life, as it flows. 


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