The Gift of Falling
A poem
the end of some things is the beginning of others.
so when my mother’s hands let go of me,
I knew to trust the fall.
the ground rushed up to meet me,
a familiar embrace, a mother’s welcome.
in that suspended moment, I was reborn,
shedding the past, becoming anew.
the impact shook me, rattled my bones,
but I did not break. instead, I took root,
nourished by the fertile earth,
blooming into something stronger, wiser.
what was ending became an opening,
a portal to possibilities yet untold.
so I let go, trusted the descent,
for in the fall, I would find my wings.
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