Surrender

I have a message for you

Her strong hands

Know stuck parts

My estranged bones yearn to melt into my soul

A primal desire trapped deep in my hips

Surviving in fear and disappointment

Aching to be free

Her strong hands offer permission

To become unstuck

I weep for fear of freedom

A rush of love charges through my veins

Mom, are you here?

Surrender, she whispers

Written in February 2025

I wrote Surrender during the second month of my unplanned sabbatical—looking back on that time one year later, so much of the pain of that time all makes sense, but in the moment it was so confusing. What was supposed to be a ten-day trip to Montañita, Ecuador for a music festival became a 2.5-month stay. I was in the midst of an identity crisis, wrestling with grief, abandonment, and the false belief that my worth was tied to productivity and titles. Encouraged by a kind older writer I met there, after a deep and emotional massage at Casa Del Sol by a witchy healer named Vanessa, I sat down and let myself write—for the first time in a long time. This poem emerged from that moment capturing a version of me that didn’t yet have the answers, only the ache and the beginning of a ten month sojourn to find the strength to surrender.