0 
0 By Meg
My counsellor shared a poem with me yesterday. Below is the ending.
‘Hold on to life even when it is easier to let go.’
Letting go isn’t easy. Letting go is hard. But it seems easier than holding on. Some days I just feel so tired of holding on. So weak.
Holding on isn’t a long-term solution. Think of holding onto a cliff edge. You hold on and on and on. You don’t want to go crashing into the rocks below. You’re too weak to pull yourself up, or the shelf is too narrow or out of reach. Your only option is to be rescued. You cannot hold on forever. Your weight is too heavy for your arms to manage. If rescue doesn’t come, you will eventually have no choice but to let go.
Someone hears you call
Just at that moment someone hears you call for help. He wants to help. He doesn’t want to see you fall. Staying with you, he reassures you that somebody will come and save you. He wants to, but he doesn’t have a rope, or long enough arms.
He does have a phone! And he knows someone who is really good at tying knots. He must have a rope. ‘We will get you safe’, he promises.
The person who can tie knots has a rope but it isn’t quite long enough for the job. He knows someone else with a rope, though, and will ask them to help as soon as he sees them.
Help is coming
The person who is on top of the cliff reassures you. Help is coming. Someone is coming.
The person with the rope only gets half the message: ‘Please go to the cliff.’ When he arrives he doesn’t have the rope. Nobody said anything about a rope. What are we expecting him to do about this without a rope? He may be able to tell you how you could use a rope, if you had one. Then you wouldn’t need him, you’d have the skills to help yourself.
You still don’t have a rope. There is still nobody who can save you and the only person who heard you cry for help doesn’t have the materials to help you, and although he has read about cliff rescue he really isn’t an expert.
He offers you his hand though. This buys a bit of time. Somebody does care. Somebody is risking their safety and giving their time. You are heavy though, and as comforting as holding his hand is, he just can’t hold you anymore.
He can’t save you
You let go. You fall to the rocks. The first man watches, devastated that after the time he’s spent reassuring you he would help you, you fell anyway.
The man with the rope that was too small writes a report describing how whilst he had a rope and knew how to tie knots, he knew the rope was too small and so had nothing to offer.
The man who forgot to bring the rope says he didn’t get the message about bringing a rope. There had been communication difficulties. He was busy and didn’t have time to read the message, and anyway, the rope was stored in the loft and it would have been time-consuming to get it. Besides, he told you how to climb up. He told you how the rope would have helped you. If only you had listened harder to the climbing instructions. Really, you didn’t want to be saved, did you?
He made a difference
Whilst the first man couldn’t save you, your last memory was of being cared for. You didn’t die alone. He made a difference, but he couldn’t save you.
Hold onto my hand, even when I go away from you.
Being heard is important. Being loved is important. Even if you can’t be saved.
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Reproduced with permission, originally posted on motherhoodmadnessgodandme
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