To Be Pandora, And To Be Glad. Poem by Kynthia Rosgeal

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.