letting go

Izzi Lynn

I've done a lot of growing up lately. 
Not because I wanted to, 
but because I had to. 

I had to learn to let go. 

Let go of what was home
(I lived in Oregon once, 
I lived in a rainy city, 
mountain tops concealed by mist, 
I lived by a wetland, 
I lived by a coast, 
I lived by a park, 
I lived in a place I called home) 

Let go of the people I called friends
I had people I knew
people I loved
people I grew up with. 
I made memories with them.
(I'm five and I'm hatching butterflies
in my classroom. 
I'm seven and I'm learning to play games with Olivia. 
I'm nine and I'm saying "hi" 
to my future best friends. 
I'm ten and I'm star of the play, 
I'm backstage playing hide 'n seek
with Charlie. 
I'm eleven and I'm at Great Wolf Lodge
with my best friends. 
I'm twelve and I'm learning to snowboard
with Grace, 
I'm twelve and I'm in a dogsled
with Grace. 
I'm fourteen and I'm at science camp,
I'm singing in the shower and laughing, 
I'm laughing, I'm smiling, I'm bonding. 
I'm fifteen playing laser tag at my surprise birthday party, 
I'm crying as I say goodbye, I love you to them. 
I'm fifteen and I'm watching Suicide Squad
with Nathaniel, I'm saying goodbye. 
I'm fifteen and I'm saying goodbye)  


Let go of my dog, Rosie
she was mine, 
she was mine. 
I used to sing to her, 
I sang her "you are my sunshine"
I sang "All of Me" 
I sang her ballads, 
I loved her. 
She was mine. 
But we had to leave her behind
when we moved. 
I said goodbye. 

Let go of my dreams of coming home
I dreamed once
that I could go back
and everything would be the same. 
I cannot pretend anymore
that it will all be the same. 
We all change, 
we change and we change
and I can't dream it. 

Let go of my dog, Luis. 
Rosie we gave to a loving family. 
Rosie was had since I was ten. 
Five years with her. 
Luis? 
We had him since I was six. 
The first dog I had was named Hunter
and he died when I was five. 
I was too young to grieve, 
too young to understand. 
The second dog we got was Luis. 
He was five when I met him. 
We brought him from coast to lake, 
from Oregon to Minnesota, 
from what was home
to what became home. 
I turned sixteen
on the 17th of August. 
We came home from vacation
and he wasn't doing too well. 
He was fourteen. 
I cried and kissed him
and boarded my flight to Oregon. 
When I landed, 
he was dead. 
They had had to put him down. 
No one knew how to tell me. 
So they waited, 
waited for a day, 
waited until they couldn't keep it from me. 
And I cried. 
I cried and I cried. 

I had to let go. 
I had to let go. 

Letting go isn't easy. 
It isn't easy at all. 
It feels like trying to find the energy
to get out of bed
when it feels like if you try, 
you'll break. 
It feels like the snap of your ankle
as you miss the landing on a flip. 
It feels like dropping a snow globe
and grabbing a mop and cleaning it up. 
It feels like driving to nowhere
and having a breakdown
and then starting the car
and finding your way back home. 
It feels like washing mud off your clothes. 

But sometimes, 
it hurts more to hold on. 
Sometimes, you have to let go
so you can move on. 
You have to open the wound
so you can drain the pus
and let it heal. 
You have to let go. 

  • Author: Izzi Lynn (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 26th, 2017 22:58
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 17
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Comments1

  • winternightsky123

    Oh my gosh this poem is amazing! I love it so much! 😍



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