Letting Go

by Christina Rosalie

I open my hand and the hundred small birds of my heart
flutter out, wings rumpled from the tight fist I've carried them in.
They fall to the ground before flying up, knowing something of soil and grief.
I can't shake this feeling now. Nights up, hearing the house move,
the small birds flit restlessly about the room, dreaming.
With dawn the birds fly up to the rafters where I cannot reach them

The Author

Christina Rosalie lives and writes in Northern Vermont where she also works as an elementary school teacher.