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(Scar)let Leaves (poetry)
a poem about inching my way towards living boldly and vulnerably, even though my initial vulnerable moments in life were met with minimization, dismissal, and even anger
I trusted so readily as a kid and had no real issues with vulnerability... at least at first. But time and time again, my leaves would be blown out of the way, mowed over, or flat out ignored. So, I eventually learned to keep things to myself. My leaves collected dust in a boarded up room. But the more kind souls I met, the more I wanted to step out of my shell again, heart on my sleeve, trusting that these compassionate individuals will nurture instead of maul (and I was right :)). The inspiration actually came from my recent (mostly serene) fall walks that inevitably get interrupted by leaf blowers, lawn mowers, etc. I never understood the incessant need to keep one's grass perfectly pristine and green with no leaf in sight. I feel no urge to immediately remove something so naturally stunning like this (and I'm glad the homeowner felt the same way):
I would spill out my guts like a pile of scarlet leaves
against backsplashes of gravel and grass,
and the leaf blowers and lawn mowers
would always have their way with me,
so eventually, I compiled bouquets of all my maple-leaf scars
and let them hibernate in vases in a boarded up room of my house.
I’ve bled on many a pavement
and learned to pick myself up
before others picked me apart,
but I’m ready to share my core parts again.
And when I finally move into a home of my own,
my yard and driveway will be a sea of autumn magic
until the snow blankets it in the coziest white.
"You're a leaf scattered by an invisible wind. Don't you know something is moving you?" -Rumi