Let go

I let go.
Everything that once lived in my hands —
gone now,
leaving only hope,
and love,
and small, fragile dreams,
like a quiet garden blooming inside my soul.

Silence settles.
Even words have gone still.
Thoughts, worries, doubts —
they all have stopped whispering.
No expectations remain,
no numbered days,
no endless ache over what might have been.

I accept things as they are.
What never happened,
and what came to pass despite my prayers.
I accept the pain of loss,
the deaths I could not prevent,
and all that my body has endured.

I accept my surrender,
my weakness,
my inability to defend myself.
My naivety, loyalty, honesty —
how curious that people praise these,
never knowing
how much they cost.

I accept that too.
And the blindness that cannot be undone.
I was born this way.

The words crawl outward,
like stones through old scars —
and still, somehow,
they come out clean.

I accept it all.
As it is.
I surrender to helplessness.
I surrender to myself.
I surrender the fight.
I surrender to fate.