Carl Newlen

Letting Go

- July 10, 2009, 3:13 pm | Poetry

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Today I watched myself shave
and knew, like before, that my hair
was receding, too slow to notice,
still too quick for me. I find it
on my pillow, the brush, shower drain.

I want to see my hair fall from my head,
watch it spiral and twist to the ground,
then be plucked up by the sharp beak
of a bird, taken to a hidden nest, braided
into a bed inside the rough twigs.

When the small eggs break open into life
I want those delicate wet wings
to feel my hair first. Only then,
in a world full of things
difficult to give up,
can I learn to let go.

 

 

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