a liturgy for letting go

Part way through the winter, in the coldest month where the days begin to get longer carrying the promise of spring, I became a paradox too. 

All frozen and balmy.  

I learned that I could write my own prayers and walk them down sidewalks under barren trees that are quite still now 

but wildly alive underground, 

like me. 

And maybe also you?

I learned to make enchilada casseroles and vegetable chilis in a crock pot that I found at the yard sale

of a friend who was moving away

And it is OK to leave. 

However hard the letting go

However terrifying and radiant the road ahead. 

I rarely make pancakes with cinnamon mixed into the batter on Saturday mornings anymore

But I do think of lost love when the seasons change, 

because he taught me how to notice them at all.

And there are ways to smile until tears flood your eyes with memory and feel the expanses of your heart growing wider still

How?

The trees may know something about this,

about growing in a cold place.

About protecting your roots 

Slowing down

to heal, 

and then–

Bloom.

© Written by Courtney Ariel Bowden, February, 2022

Please do not duplicate without author’s permission.