Poems for the End of the World: Let it Let

pressing weight into grief
weight into weight
a trap
door perhaps pressing my way
into the crack the in between stone
rolling surrender to the potential of its crushing
or my own strength
or miracle of movement

maybe a door opens
collapses into my breath
and aren’t we all quite bored with tears
especially small ones
selfish ones
that have my heart running scared

the small close droplets are the ones that make you crazy
the echo of those unwept howlings
the ting of a valve until it stops

let the blood come rushing back into feeling
let even the boring tears fall
even the predictable flurries
even the most self pitiable
even the small small blood
the bitter and petty shameful

let it let
let myself surrender to the river
to the ocean
let me become water
let me hold only what is mine to hold
let it root and flourish
let the rest drown
let me remember surviving it
as I watch it wash away

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