Alas it was but in that moment, when your soul cascaded into the night sky, that I understood what a goodbye truly meant. A chill crawled down my spine as your body grew colder by the minute beneath my touch; a solemn awakening on my conscience as grief greeted me yet again. This familiar path I feared to embark on again has resurfaced, baring with its somber recollections - I witnessed you…finally at rest.

Her arms would never turn the corner to greet me as I landed from my flight,
The warmth in her laughter shall fall to silent ears as the house ceases to echo,
Those eyes would never challenge the radiance of the sun again,
For it was in this moment I embraced the season of change, the art of letting go.

Letting go is a natural part of life that arises in manners we may never consider. May it be a goodbye placed upon a past lover, a former roommate, an old apartment, even a job site - goodbyes signify the end of a chapter. 2023 bore many moments of letting go for me as I relished in the art of departure. I lost my grandmother, the woman who raised me. This emotion was overwhelming as it marked the beginning of her legacy that I am now adorned to live. I have encountered many moments of goodbye this year: moving states, a heartbreaking end to a relationship, ending a program, seeking a new field of employment, ending a friendship - the list is exhaustive. Yet, it wasn’t until the passing of my grandmother I truly recognized the beauty of letting go.

The art of departure entails embracing what once was whilst creating space for what is to come. Letting go is freeing yourself of expectations - rather having abundant expectancy.

life is unpredictable in its fickle nature,

moments can transform into a lifetime of shared splendor or somber recollection,

healing isn’t linear nor is life’s trajectory as we tread this path scattered with trials and tribulations,

time challenges our wit and forces our hand at resilience as we build ourselves countlessly to brace the changes that come our way,

that is the beauty of existing— understanding the significance of loss and relishing the triumph of union,

savoring the essence within us and radiating faith amid our silent prayers,

healing isn’t linear, nor is life’s trajectory as we are riddled with fates that at times make us question our purpose in retrospect to the everyday,

this breath is but a gift of chance for us to continue walking mindfully with the beauty that surrounds us,

you are but a flower in the garden of tomorrow; blossom endlessly.

looking up looks good on you,

you weren’t of this world,

your heart was beyond the realms of reason,

a ray of sunshine returns to its source today,

continuing to shower her light on life as she did for 84 years.

Looking up looks good on you,

you make mortality beautiful with such celestial hues,

bringing peace to the plants you tended,

solace to the animals you fed,

and warmth to the hearts you touched.

looking up looks good on you.

Watching her as the last breath had already left her grasp… to see a light cease… was a conflicted reality. She was there — but gone. Finally freed from the cycle of samsara. Touching her face, seeing the color wash away the pains of yesterday, and feeling her body chill to a gruesome cold… it was in that moment I realized she won’t complain i’m cold anymore. She will warm and light up the sky with her smiles now.

Mortality is but a fickle yet omnipresent reminder to cherish each moment as it scatters past our horizons. It is but a gentle reminder to hold onto hugs a minute longer, savor a conversation a sentence deeper, and sit in the sunshine till dusk greets our departures. It is in the everyday we remain rooted in the reality of what lies hidden in the inevitable. Thus, in the moments mortality beacons at our doorstep — sending the gruesome chill of conclusion up your spine — cherish the warmth that radiates within your waking breath. It is in the inhale and exhale we seldom forget the gift of today that is bestowed on our conscious.

The ability to create, to debate, to deliberate on the topics that itch our fascination lies within mere moments of the now. She taught us to immerse ourselves in the ravishing splendor that life is because the inevitable looms above us all. Such a kindred spirit was she, a woman with a heart of gold. A soul that radiated in a light blind to the common eye. She held onto a glow that constellations graced — a burning light in of herself.

looking up looks good on you.

the trials she fails scatter her decisions -
she harbors quiet chaos in her mind's wake,
fathoming a reality unfit for spoken prose,
a truth vested in ambitions stretched; striving.

the moon rises and illuminates the darkness,
the night beckons confessions from the willing,
here - together - they unravel the intricate layers of their being,
a vulnerable act of expression to comprehend inner turmoil,
with parsed memories and melancholy anecdotes they ramble,
a vocal embrace of unity; discoveries.

I saw your ghost on a train downtown -
it beckoned me to walk down memory lane once more

What a feverish recollection of unspoken dreams,
for familiarity of passing your stop created this melancholy haste -
the agony of persisting despite the lack of closure

your shadows still linger on the platform as I push forward,
ever reminding me of what could have been; nostalgia.

To give life to the inner workings of my mind I ink the surface of these pages with secrets untold,
A breath of fresh air is this release of suppressed expression that now flows freely,
Life is but a muse to the poet’s pen.

Poetry is a universal language that defies all boundaries,
Such serene stanzas touch souls with hidden splendor,
This prose awakens dreams in the heart of the wanderer,

Lost is the mind as it travels across the words on display,
Connected is the spirit as it creates meaning unique to the self,
Life is but a poem waiting to be discovered.