Let it all go: September blessing

We are treading over the threshold
Into autumn

The brash erotic certainty of summer surrenders
And we know that we must let it go

As we enter the dying-time
Griefs old and new press around us
“Witness me,” they beg, “grieve me and let me go.”

You do not have to let go with grace
With forbearance and tidy words
Sometimes we let go with weeping and clenched fists

You can be like the crone horse-chestnut who looses its gnarled fingers when august still clings on,
Or you can let go last, like the oaks, in a fierce blaze of late november glory.

So let your restless heart be soothed
As the evenings come down to greet us,
Ask the trees and the earth and the fruiting bodies of the mushrooms and the morning breeze
To help you settle.

Notice the places in you that are tired,
In need of stillness and dark restfulness.
The parts that wish to go to ground, 
To return to the earth that which has had its fill of dancing with the air

Yes, autumn is the dying time, 
but it is not forever
So, however you can,
Trust that nothing is ever truly lost from the inner life of the heart, 
And then let it all go.

All rights reserved Rev. Holly Chetan-Welsh