About Letting Go

For We Write Poems Prompt #121: What do hands do http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/

About Letting Go

Fueled by fear of loss,
rigid fingers bent to grip
in clawing grasp, must learn
slowly, one digit at a time,
to relax, let go, release
what is held too closely.

Palms calmly cupped, empty,
finally ready now to receive
whatever is freely given.

Elizabeth Crawford  9/5/12

Notes: Have arthritis is most of my joints. It floats so that the pain moves, sometimes in shoulders, other times knees or hips. In my early thirties, it seemed to concentrate in my hands and fingers. I often went to bed wondering if I’d awaken with permanent claws instead of hands. With the help of medication and spontaneous imagery I slowly learned how to relax my fingers and hands, but learned a valuable lesson about letting go, in that process.

About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here: https://1sojournal.wordpress.com/ https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/ http://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/
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7 Responses to About Letting Go

  1. nan says:

    this is a beautiful poem of letting go…from the physical to the metaphorical. Your experience with arthritis most surely informed this poem. Thanks for sharing it.

    Thank you Nan, I’ve had the arthritis since I was seventeen. It is simply a part of who I am, but the lessons I learn are deeply seated because of that condition. As I learned to accept the lesson, the pain receded,



  2. It’s the same process with physical and emotional pain, isnt it, Elizabeth? Flowing with, rather than resisting. Love the image of the cupped hands, ready to receive. This is simply beautiful, both writing and philosophy!

    Sherry, I believe that the more we cling, the harder we hold on, the more we are unable to receive what is waiting for us. Thanks for stopping by, my friend,



  3. Misky says:

    Wonderful poem, but, oh my, Elizabeth. I’m so sorry to read about your discomfort with arthritis. It’s a misery, isn’t it. Take care, my friend.

    Not so much a misery as a reminder that moving slowly does have some advantages, lol. Thanks for stopping by Misky,



  4. JulesPaige says:

    Giving as you receive. Thank you. I know several folks who have to do ‘routines’ several times a day so as not to stiffen up. Our hands are our tools may we continue to use them with wisdom.

    Thanks Jules. We seem to often forget that every action has an equal reaction. I was terrified that I would lose the creativity that constantly sought its own expression. That hasn’t happened yet, and hope it never does. Working with my hands sometimes brings on a dull ache, but that is only seldom and when it happens, I change activities. There are answers if we seek them,



  5. vivinfrance says:

    Your poem gives us great insight into what your condition has meant to your life.

    Lol, Viv, made me incredibly headstrong? For the first thirty years, I ignored it and refused to let it dictate what I could or couldn’t do. Not a wise response and I’ve paid a price for that. Finally realized that I had been given a lot of other things besides that condition and began to explore them. Some of us learn later than others,



  6. Beautifully stated, Elizabeth. I have a friend who has been plagued with this condition since an early age, as well. Your descriptions are nearly chilling.

    Thank you for reading. Part of the issue with this condition is that it is not readily visible, so engenders false judgments about those who must own its reality. I’m not just speaking of others. For many years, I thought of myself as ‘slow’ and even lazy. Acceptance can go a long way in relieving some of the “pain” that might be attached.



  7. neil reid says:

    This is powerful, powerful, Elizabeth. It is also – good medicine. I mean the poem, of itself, and for real. I’m also reminded of a prompt, long time back, about “poems that heal”. This qualifies. But that’s shabby praise, only words. Yes, if we listen, if we read openly, if we allow ourselves to be, to do, as this poem does – become empty, thus to receive – to allow other, to allow next, because yes, it is right here in front of us, well expressed.

    The more of these poems I’ve read, the more I want to repeat this prompt again another day (not even “differently”, no “new twist”, but just the same), because there is so so much of merit and worth being discovered here.

    And of course I’m glad for you my friend, for lessons learned.

    Neil, once again you see beneath the surface and once again I am grateful for the gifts you bring. This prompt took me in so many directions and then brought me back to center. I think you are right, the prompt could easily be repeated and a whole new forest of ideas and poems would arise. Thank you for this one,



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