Coming Soon, Iʻll Be Gone

Itʻs feeling the winds that once fanned a blazing, wild fire

Slow down, soften and begin to dance in swirls around the remaining flicker,

Itʻs feeling the exhaustion of extended fingers returning from reaching outward

Inward, to wrap gently around oneʻs own heart, genuinely cherishing the beating,

Itʻs the sound of creaking and moaning from the neighborhood, tree folk

As they readjust and ready themself to hibernate for the season of contraction

Itʻs the sound of my own extended release of breath joining the whirlpool dance

And feeling into a deep place of eternal exhaustion, requesting rest within.

I N H A L E -

Even rest is not motionless; energy still moves, yet I pause

Here at the threshold, ready to cross from life to death

E X H A L E -

Suspended between every breath and heartbeat

Grief sounds both melodious and dissonant

Falling ever so graceful

Tears echo through the night

Quenching a land of drought;

Washing away the noise of self

Softening a forest of hardened skin.

Surrendered to the descent from life to death

Joy soothes my soul with remembrance

Drifting ever so gently

Cold comes to dissipate heat

Inviting slower, deeper breath

Contracting me back to season of dormancy

Asking me to recall the version before summer.

Succumbed to the reel of the seasonal wheel

Here I observe, living vicariously through memory,

Witnessing all that I was and no longer am

It is both terrifying and exhilarating

To know that I have another opportunity to begin again.

Though first, I must cross this threshold

Before I can be reborn I must go under and through

This is not new, I have been here many times before

Still, the point of push and pull, between grief and joy

Feel ever so long and time consuming. . .

Yet, I have no concept of time;

My inner compass will need to recaliberate -

All I can do is accept the invite

Which beckons me to dive inward

Returning to my center,

Which remains the same

As the first day I evolved a seedling,

Following magnetism of heat waves inward,

In hopes to beat the first frost

If able to claim myself I cannot be stripped

Though barren in appearance

Life pulses ever so strongly

Source is not mine alone

Faithfully I allow contraction

Preserving what heat I may

Tightening the pores

I set my boundaries

Preparing for a time of negotiation.