Her grasp was weak

She held happiness for but a moment

and pain was a splinter that came with it.

She ached under her skin.

Fighting the urge to let go,

she drove her nails into a strong hold.

But still it was frail.

Closing her eyes,

she pushed away reality.

Trying not to realize that contentment merely fluttered by,

took a rest, and left.

She ignored the possibility

that never was anything meant to stay

in her arms.

Her fingers were slipping.

She could see her blood struggling in her veins.

In the darkness she felt incomplete,

alone and with no purpose.

Opening her eyes, she realized that indeed

there was nothing.

And with her last breath of strength,

she unfurled her fingers

and let go.

She welcomed the end of her struggles

with the sweetness of release,

a complete surrender

to a fall

that was her own.

September 2000