Sometimes you can let go
Sometimes you just can't
Sometimes your body gives over
To the diagnosis
Or gives out
To the symptoms
I want to cliff dive
Into a lagoon of crisp clear blue green water
But my left fist is too tight
It's numbed by squeezing so hard
It's numbed from neglect
Don't you see that
The more I'm ignored
The tighter I squeeze?
My road to the ocean was marked by 3 dead skunk
All of which had sprayed
And I was left to wonder if they spray right before they get hit
or is their spray released upon being hit?
Sometimes we need to be hit over the head before we loosen our grip
Sometimes it's too late
My mother tells the story as
"The moment of your grandmother's passing
The room filled with the smell of oranges,
And oh how your grandmother loved oranges."