I don’t know what this urge is
or where it comes from,
this distant pull
this distant hang on
I can’t get away
it’s like I’m always hanging on
to something.

And so I don’t know what it’s like to fall
to be free in space
muscles no longer tensed
fingers no longer white knuckled
tight and pained
no longer gripping
falling back,
maybe I won’t hit the ground
maybe there’s no ground to hit.

Hanging on though,
that’s what I do,
I hang on
to what I think is the truth
and everything comes from there
and, like clothes, my beliefs I wear
and I get frantic when something
starts tugging on my leg
because it makes it harder to hang on.

Why am I hanging on

And what does my world look like
if I let go.

It seems impossible
because…

What does it look like if I let go

Will I warm
will I thaw
will my sharp edges
dull
will metal become cotton
and glass become water
will I be flattened by the world
and is flat, bad?

What will happen if I let go.