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March 9, 1999


Letting Go


You tell me to release it, to let my failing go, but I cannot

it feels like letting go of breath to never draw again

or my hand or eye, imperfect, scorned to use, I would be less

a man than what I have been born.  Deep they are and will not go

without pain.


You tell me to release it, to call on God and let it go but no

that cannot be done, they are too deep ingrained in me to leave,

their leaving would be death and I do not wish to die this way.


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