These past few years I have seen and learned 'letting go' in a lot of forms:
In the deafening roar of a train leaving your lonely figure past, past, past...
a father on his bed taking last, tortured breaths
or friends you used to meet everyday but are no longer there when you're crying your nights away
and grudges, leaving them only so you'd feel lighter, if not fuller, again
letting go of a lot of things except
you. Your memory doesn't leave.