falling to pieces

falling to pieces

i’ve been watching the great oak
in my yard for several years now…
she doesn’t play by the rules
of autumn, clinging tightly to
faded, parched leaves against
the fiercest of tempests, through
ice and heavy lobs of wet snow,
though her branches may bend
to almost breaking, she holds fast
i don’t know what to think of such
a tree, is it vanity, stubbornness,
a lapse of memory? for as sure
as summer drifts to autumn and
autumn to winter, spring will come
as the sun grows warm and days
grow long, life will begin to surge
through her veins causing buds
to burst, at long last setting their
departed siblings free to ride the wind,
to taste the earthen loam, to rest,
to rest in peace in a sea of greening

i’ve been known to be stubborn, to
cling too tightly to things not meant
for me, to useless longing for what
once was, my memory forgetful of
the struggles of those glorified once
upon a times, and time again i have
been known to stand full-faced
against a tempest, convinced i held
on and on for virtue’s sake, believing
martyrdom raised me up, oh there
it is, the vanity, how loathsome
to be a tree that can’t let go
when letting go is one’s very destiny…
letting go to ride the wind, to fall to pieces,
to trust the seasons, to know that
whatever is left of me is all i need
and here, now is where i’m meant to be


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