Yesterday on a walk through the garden
it occurs to me
that I don’t much like October
or really, I guess… it’s the season that gets to me
the gardens start to look a bit
haggard
colours have dulled to brown and
rotty
not much new to spot on a walk through
just bits that begin to
disappear
stays dark too long in the morning
gets dark too soon in early evening
dull, damp, cooling
has me feeling
about
the same
and cold feet
work life taking small pieces of my
well-being
like ducks pecking at bits of bread
also as happens, I immerse myself in a story somewhat familiar
of
living, of surviving, of floundering and
finding one’s way
the lasting effects of our stories, where we come from
and how reverberating the legacies of things
we cannot
fix
continue to creep in to our own
nature of things
this story from a woman I greatly admire
breaks my heart in wishing it were possible to offer
an embrace that would serve to relieve some of the anguish
that accumulates from time to
time
(as if that could help)
my own story travels with me
written on the underside of my skin
serves most times to open my heart in such a way
as to wish I could offer up something
that would make life for you
just a little bit
easier
take away the pain, and the
shame
the fear and the worries
the things that make you insecure and
unsure
of your footing
I tend to absorb the things I can
from others
and when I reach the point of overwhelm
feel the lump in my throat, the tears
ready to fall at every minute
of every day
I withdraw a little
from the world
sit with the difficult things
wishing you
didn’t have to
but I keep my heart open
knowing I am made of love
and I send this
to
you
today, another overcast day and a walk
to the garden
to find, one brand new flower
only just beginning
to bloom ♥