Release
Hold onto life, my little leaf,
in spite of pain,
in spite of grief;
and, when the wild winds rape the bough
till trembling more than now,
you almost lose your grip:
hold yet to life.
Hold onto life, though brittle brown,
remains alone of life’s fair gown;
for Spring must come again, I know
and warm your roots ‘neath melting snow;
you cannot give up now:
hold still to life.
Hold onto life, through life seems past,
and though the lots have all been cast;
for somewhere Summer walks in green
and somewhere Love crowns her queen
who knew him not below:
hold on, then, go.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
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