Only This

There was a backing up,

a turning around

of some part of me

that once tried to

shape the world

to match what I thought

I wanted

out of the hope

of a me that had

forgotten who I am.

It was in this

turning around

and stepping back

a little more

and a little more

that I could see

ever more clearly —

until there was

a delicate holding

and letting go

of all it,

without condition —

and my deepest,

highest wishes

depended only on this.