Tamara Willems

seasons change and so do i…

Season’s change and so do I

the end of summer arrives, and then
it’s fall
where usually this comes with a feeling of dread, for me
this year I seem to have just idly wandered
on through
as though someone’s left the door open…

the summer in some ways felt kind of
less luxurious, less
we were busy of course, and otherwise
much of my sustenance, the gardens in the back
have been completely battered
so often I have felt the desperateness of this
tried and tested, until surrender
to utter defeat
wanting and needing, I have cried and complained
I have asked, and I have
I have cried and I have cried again
wondered if I had spent too much time with this
monkey brain

and who would hear of my troubles
if not
the flowers

felt myself, withdraw
a retreat of sorts, into myself
carelessly preserved isolation
whole conversations, held only in my head
selfishly creating the loneliness of

last week, I could feel myself voluntarily taking on the weight
of a young girl I know, wishing for home
riddled with doubt, with uncertain-ness
with indecision and with the fear
of letting others
and because this was luggage I more than recognize
I took up her baggage and offered to
store it here
hoping somehow I could spare her the
oddly it seemed to surprise me when I found
just how deeply
I had embedded this weight in my bones

this week I watched another Ken Burns, Lynn Novick three-part documentary
The U.S. and the Holocaust
again I debated, knowing the subject matter
and the blatant cruelties of man, had the potential to just
eat me alive
but I did watch, and tried (as Ken Burns will do)
to look and to listen to the intimate accounts from
varying angles
just so far from any possible understanding
though none of which seems so unbelievable now,
as repeatedly we watch history try desperately to repeat itself
in the actions of modern day tyrants
not nearly as effective, but certainly as affecting
as well as those
will follow

the strength and survival
the devastation and despair
the agonizing grief
and the
(these stories I carry)

and then coincidentally,  I suppose
on to the autumnal equinox
where the earth for a time, is not tilting toward,
nor away
but sits equally in lightness as
in dark
where I, feeling as though I had become bogged down
possibly complacent, or most certainly
a little less than mindful
will decide once again to dedicate myself
to a practice of
great gratitude for living

and for whatever it may be worth
I open my heart
to you

sending you love and kindness
wherever you may need it

Seasons change and so do I
(and now)
you need not wonder why ♥

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