Letting Go

Standing one the edge of the highway gazing
at the panoramic view of the
tundra and the Alaska Range—
snow capped mountains, spruce trees, and fields of
fireweeds and lupines and
forget-me-nots—
a sense of pride and awe
flows through my veins.
Deep within my heart is a haunting
I am helpless to understand;
it is a privilege I have not been granted.

As I breathe in the wild air, I feel alive,
but alone. Overwhelmed by the immensity
with no one to share this moment.
It’s a hard country to live in.
Only the strong survive.
Those less fortunate
soon return home, where it is
easier. But not me.
I leave for other reasons.

The land holds tightly to my heart—
a vise that won’t let go.
It wrenches away a part
causing searing pain as I
prepare to embark on a
new life.
But I let it go—
my only gift to a place,
I love too much.

Taking one final look,
collecting my last memories,
I walk slowly back to my car, feet
grating across the gravel.
And shutting the door, I start my car, and
looking ahead I drive away,
never to return.