I stopped midsentence

I stopped mid-sentence,

let the silence take residence

in the space where I'd been speaking,

where I'd been seeking

to fix what wasn't mine to repair,

to show that I still care

by talking them into being

different, better, seeing

what I saw.

But they were tired of my haunted

insistence on salvation,

and I realized myself

that giving up was the last gift

I could offer—the shift

from trying to release,

from struggle to peace,

from my words to their silence.

I watched their face change,

the way they began to arrange

themselves into acceptance

of their own consequence,

and it was the kindest thing

I've ever done—

letting go of the string,

letting them be undone

without my running commentary,

without my dictionary

of solutions.

The absolute resolution:

I stopped trying.

And they stopped lying

to themselves that I would save them.

We both became free

when I let them be.