Letting Go


It took me years to process my abuser
I was told that I needed to learn to “just let it go”. I find the idea of “just letting go” to be inadequate and lacking in compassion. I knew letting it go was the polite thing to do but I left that kind of politness behind on the bathroom floor with the hair I once had.

I never learned to let go

Instead I learned how to let it pass through me.

At first it went through my head and all I could think was it
Then it went through my eyes and all I could see was it
It went through my mouth and all I could speak was it
It went through my heart and interrupted my cadence
It went through my lungs and stole my breath
It went through my fingers and I wrote it
It went through my sex and swallowed it
It went through my legs and locked all movement from them
It went through my feet and even though I cried for mercy it broke them

But one day
It went through me without taking huge peices of me with it
And the day after that
When it tried to go through me
It shattered.

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