Mending

Several weeks ago the daylight shortened and night began lengthening -

An unspoken message to all that it was time to begin the season of gathering,

A chill prematurely traversed my spine when holes in my basket were found,

Never a welcomed discovery to any fellow gatherer around.

Typically I would be cherishing sunlight, celebrating the bounty harvested -

This year is about mending the vessel that is an extension of all I am comprised

It is a tedious task that requires great patience, a process both sweet and bitter,

I have shed many tears during this process, as I remember.

This vessel carried me into the world, holding me as I learn to move in grace -

The basket a mirror; if torn and tattered, what truth reflects upon my face?

Instead of consuming this season, I am sifting through the contents within

Memory by memory, sorting through elements of what has been.

Laying out the remains of crops from many seasons, I see what spoiled -

When did my own greed blind me from noticing my basket was overfilled?

Removing these rotting products of fear, I lay them at the feet of the Earth,

Now, I gather strength to humbly bow and seek her true worth.

Tears soften the material of this vessel enough to mend the seams -

I witness the land receive and restore me; its as if I am awake in a dream,

Though I fast, there will be no hunger this winter, earth shall be nourished

Reminded, there is no waste when organic material becomes composted.