to work out frustration and sadness
in the fall air.
The pace of my feet on the sidewalk and its leaves
got my heartbeat going faster.
Blowing wind against my hair and my skin and my eyes
got my tears going easier.
Thinking of you, and you, and you
got breath catching in my throat
hot and painful.
Worrying about that, and this, and that
got my palms clenching
beside my hips.
Wanting the things I want so hard
got me wanting to scream
and be a mess and not care.
I pictured myself crawling onto a pile of crisp leaves
and choosing one leaf to rip into little tiny bits
until there was nothing more to rip
and then moving on to another
and somehow 15 seemed like a good number in my reverie.
I thought maybe if I ripped 15 of those beautiful dying leaves
until they were no more
and cried enough and yelled enough
there would be some relief at the end of it
and I wouldn’t feel this anymore–
this angst and this pain.
But I didn’t.
I just kept walking because that’s what made sense,
corners of my eyes bruised from impatiently flicking tears away
breath stuck in my chest, just giving me enough to keep moving
thinking of all the yous– both hating and loving
fists clenched as my hips took me where I need to go
and the 15 leaves behind me now
crumpled up and moldy and dead.
And I’m sure there weren’t any answers there anyway.
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- I am a coach and facilitator, passionate about living in the world in integrity. I share my victories and struggles candidly through my blog and lead processes for personal transformation through my Shadow Work coaching practice.