Letting Go of Grip

Katie Frances Hartless

Snowball rainfall

I pop an umbrella to claim

a dry zone amongst the drip,

but these plastic panels

these platform shoes,

this Matcha green tea in hand,

this partly-done lesson plan,

none of it is me,

nor does it belong to anybody.

As much as the space above my head,

is altered, but not possessed,

the greatest lesson I’ve learned yet

is to let go of entitlement.

Only then can I ascend into my own bell

to hear the sweetest frequency I’ve known

as I abandon ownership of my soul.

When me and mine are unbraided,

in that final hour,

let me be turned into a flower,

blossoming into my spirit,

petals and stem soaking wet.

A splendor at dawn, but closed

when noonday sun’s a threat.

True nature grasped,

I find myself an ocean

swallowing a stone,

and not a raindrop

falling all alone.

Artwork: A 7.2-hectare lotus field outside of Hanoi, Vietnam.

Weyes Blood “God Turn Me Into a Flower”

14 responses to “Letting Go of Grip”

johnlmalone

wow ! that third photo is amazing —

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1. Katie Frances Hartless
  
  Thanks, John. I hope to visit this place this December.
  
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  1. johnlmalone
    
    look forward to the post 🙂
    
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Experience Film

Laying claim to dry space under an umbrella☔️ subtly brilliant show of the love hate relationship with the ego. The present tense crisp as that canopy shield. This poem is an instant classic for me. Bravo🏮🪷🧘‍♀️

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1. Katie Frances Hartless
  
  Wow, thank you, EP. I think that space above the head has magic. I’m glad you found this poem moving.
  
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John

Wonderful reading, Katie. The space above my head…

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1. Katie Frances Hartless
  
  Thank you, John. I think I stay in that space more often than not. I appreciate your kind words. 💜
  
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  1. John
    
    You are welcome, Katie. 🙏🏻😊
    
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Anonymous

Your cadence, voice and style are particularly enjoyable here. Thank you.

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Katie Frances Hartless

Thank you, kindly. Your positive feedback encourages me to continue writing. 🙏

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Laura Bloomsbury

the words seem to drop like honey and rain on the page here – “an umbrella to claim
a dry zone” – such a superb description but you had me at:
“Only then can I ascend into my own bell
to hear the sweetest frequency I’ve known”

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1. Katie Frances Hartless
  
  Thank you, Laura. 🙏Now that I’ve heard my own ring, it seems all I can think of is how to get back there again.
  
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Ana Daksina

Nicely done.

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Katie Frances Hartless

Thanks, Ana. 🙏

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