Sometimes I ask myself precisely how many times I can let go of the same thing over and over? Precisely, how many times can I pare down to less? I keep thinking I've given up almost everything. Indeed, letting go feels likes my perpetual lesson.
I let go of house and home.
I let go of those things I thought, necessary.
I let go of the parts of myself that I thought were core bits, but ultimately, not true.
I let go of material things.
I let go of friends and companions.
I let go of family.
And there is always more I realize I'm attached to.
There is always more to let go of.
And then there are some things you really shouldn't let go of, I tell myself.
And so I don't. I won't.
Like my three babies.
Each of these my three babies I will carry with me.
For myself I ask no one else to be mother to these three.
And of course I'm like a wild horse
But there's no other way to be.
Water and feed are not things that I need
For the thing that I've chosen to be.
In my soul
My blood and bones
I have wrapped your cold bodies around me.
The face on you
The smell on you
will always be with me.
And this is the manipulating point my Narc knows.
He knows my love for them means I will not ever abandon them to him.
Each of these my three babies.
I let go of all else, but.
