It’s not the pain of separation anymore.
It’s not the abandonment and fear,
It’s not the match that burnt the bridge,
It’s not what it once was, when saying goodbye
Was an act to flee.
–
As time ebbs, and the desire to heal has
Whittled down the hard wood of who I once was,
I recognize that not even death is an act of saying goodbye.
I bow to the ancestors, and let it all go.
This time around, saying goodbye to friends, loved ones, and places
Is the hardest part.
–
The golden grained sand that sparkles on your skin days after,
The mothering sun, hugging in everlasting care.
The sage oils off the leaf on the summery days,
Where the mountains carry breezes and the
Manzanita trees bear teeny fruit to encourage salivation.
–
It’s the dream of the lizard,
The soaring of the hawk,
The fins above, so below of the dolphin,
The humming bird’s curiosity.
Saying goodbye is the hardest part,
The path of health and recovery,
The home of healing,
The anxiousness of unreadiness,
To grow in the unknown.
It’s the father who drops their child off at college,
The bird who flew the nest,
It’s the adventure that separates us,
The desire to experience,
The idea of living is the hardest part.
This way of life that we’re all supposed to be doing.
This weight of wonder.
–
But really, saying goodbye is inevitable,
And there will be many more times, poems, people
We will say goodbye to,
Where we are booger filled,
Tears like rain,
Heart pounding pressure,
Malaise or excited, to bring forth newness like
Spring does from Winter,
So that the moments we said goodbye,
Were the moments we made empowered decisions to
Take ahold of our lives,
And instead of being told what to do with them,
We said hello to infinite possibilities.
–
Saying goodbye is the hardest part,
But it is universally relatable,
There’s a sense of comfort in that.
JASPER QUINCE 