I’m Awake Now

I’m awake now.
And I don’t want to go back to sleep.

Besides, even if I wanted to,
I wouldn’t know how.

I wish it felt more like a spring night,
when the frogs start to sing—

and you linger just a little because
it hurts too much to say goodnight.

But today it feels like a storm in my chest,
Tamacun spinning so fast I can’t even think.

(Was I ever thinking straight?)

I really believed I had everything under control:
my needs in a box, head on straight, feet on the ground.

No lollygagging around here.
(Is that any way to live a life?)

And the harder things churned, the tighter I held.
But here’s the thing about control: it’s an illusion.

It’s also a potent drug—the addictive kind.

Control doesn’t actually make us safe (trust me),
it just makes us feel that way… until it doesn’t.

But the thing about holding on that tight?
Eventually, we have to let go or be ripped apart.

And remember those things we’re trying to avoid?
They show up anyway. Or worse - a bunch of other things we never saw coming.

I don’t want to pretend anymore.
There’s always going to be something,
And I don’t have control over any of it.

And I don’t know that I want it either.
There’s a sweet surrender in that.

Maybe I just want to linger with those frogs.

Because when we surrender control,
we stop trying to manipulate outcomes
and start living instead.

So instead of pouring myself
into controlling the uncontrollable
(and exhausting myself in the process)

I’m choosing to face whatever comes.

As the storm clouds gather,
I’m turning to face them,
wondering what combination of colors to mix
to capture that moody, restless glow.

Writing Prompt:

Where in your life have you been gripping too tightly? What might open up if you surrender - even just a little?