I remember, when I first decided I
no longer wished to lie. Or hide
or be invisible, or be powerless over
my fate, any longer. I simply said
Enough! And it was. But, as soon as
I said it, I became Pandora, the
ills, of this world, my world, my private
little hell, were released. And I slammed
the lid down, too late, everything had gotten
loose, loosed upon my little world, my
twisted, painful, little world. I cried and
complained, but it did no good, what had
escaped was gone, loosed, never returning.
I knew what that ancient mythological woman
felt. I knew her despair, and I sat, resolute
not to whine, or cry, or snivel or be a pain
in the neck. No, If she could get through
all the evils in the world being her fault, I
could learn to deal, and that's when I heard
it, the tiny, unmistakable voice, the voice
of Hope. It told me to open the chest the
rest of the way, To let out the last sprite
To let Hope roam free. So I did, I opened
my chest, released hope. And am never
Regretting my decision. The growth I
have received from the personal goddess
has far outweighed the ills I released.
And, sometimes, every once in a while
You got to let it go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem