“Learn to close softly. The doors of rooms you will not be coming back to.”Donald Justice
Everything I have ever had to let go of has claw marks on it.
I fought. I clung. I held on until my knuckles broke.
Until I was destroyed with trying.
A boxer after a knockout. On my hands and knees, blood and sweat and spit pooling at my hands.
Until recently, I had not yet learnt the fine art of walking away with grace. Of letting go of things not meant for me.
Of finding the battle fought and lost. Of declaring defeat with dignity.
No. I took the punches and then I went back for more.
I gathered my shattered bones from the floor and offered them up for further breaking.
I was relentless.
But now; now, I am slowly learning.
I am learning to accept my fate. To recognize when the battle has already been decided.
I am learning to pick myself up off the ground. To wipe the sweat from my forehead and the blood from my mouth.
I am learning to walk away. To walk forward.
On to greater and more beautiful battles.
Battles that have my name on them.
Battles that look like the full moon rising.