I saw in my dream
a little girl clutch
a piece of a mans old clothing.
Subtle was her longing scream
to once more feel his loving touch
and like that anguish blurred into loathing.
The welling of tears that drowned her eyes,
A love once earthbound now soared in the skies.
The tremors in her bones,
a sign of vulnerability only death would condone.
The proof of his existence, were in her scars made clear.
Grief, untamed, too profound for the reflectiveness of a tear.
But then on a cliff,
of dawn kissed green,
I saw that little girl at the tip.
Forgotten were their surface tiffs,
the peaking rays of hope finally seen
She held out the piece of clothing, the piece of past, the source of her loathing
and loosened her grip.
At the end of my dream, I no longer saw the little girl.
In her place was a young woman, foreign to the world.
What are you holding onto?
What is holding onto you?
What is stopping you from living your life in abundance?