I wrote this poem last autumn (2023) when I was feeling the growing coldness particularly strongly. Autumn is actually my favourite season, but last year it felt harsh and early. I finished editing it during the winter, but it felt like I had to wait till autumn to post it, so here it is!
Autumn Winds
The soul contracts
as summer fades,
coming back from outer wanderings.
Cold shocks our system
and we hide in layers,
spiralling inwards.
Wind rushes through crannies
as if picking up the debris of our life,
flinging it in our face.
We shield.
Inner carnage comes alive
in the darkening,
mirrored by nature wilting
where it stands,
dying with a matter-of-factness
that is only possible
in the certainty of rebirth.
Letting things die gracefully
is even harder
in the age of mistrust,
where apparitions multiply by the second
and no one can tell
the real from the generated.
We get lost in the mirages of an unreal world
and forget we have created our own,
veiling our reality with phantoms
that only half resemble us.
But the unreal cannot die
as it does not live.
It exists in a shadow world,
ghoulish figments
created from fear and discontent.
Autumn invites us to face reality
and let what needs to go
die with dignity
instead of cramping our souls
by holding on,
not being able to let our seasons
change as they need
so we can grow
and not remain stunted
contracted versions of ourselves.
Let the autumn winds
shape you, beautiful being;
they will shake you up and
smooth you out,
cleaning out your nooks and crannies.
Readying you for what
you could never imagine
might be coming to meet you.
© Saraphir Camille Legind 2024
