On a day that I was overtaken with what I cared not to feel, all panicked. I decided to break the social code and get up and leave in the middle of the lecture and not return. I know I was paying for the class, but I would rather save face and not cry in front of my classmates. So I decided to walk, to go outside and soak in the sun and living things around me. As my mind was easing away from the aweful technique of a teacher confusing their students, I was training myself to really see my surroundings. Then my anxiety exhaled and I could breathe. This is what I wrote:
I wish there was a way to…
accurately portray,
the color, the leaves dance.
The way they promenade their rhythm of
light to dark and shadow.
Flickering hues of a color, then another,
exposing themselves wholly.
Baring complete vulnerability to see what they are,
re-birthing each season a new image,
giving you something to look forward to.
Taunting eachother in their games of tag,
grasping out towards affection,
they speak practical joy, of being.
They can be still and soak up the sun,
spread waves of laughter as the wind
tickles their belly,
the leaves teach me to live.
Their tones provide me warmth,
seeping up my nose to smell the buds
they share with the world.
They’re giving.
Dispersing the contagion
of the spirit we should all know and have.
As a choir they praise,
Singing songs of twitter, swish,
as they collaborate with the wind
their branches, creek.
They whisper wisdom,
acknowledging, sharing, showing,
beauty… I have yet to know.
