turning of the leaves...

it's not autumn. the leaves aren't coloring. fading. or falling.

but my internal forest. the woods that hold this shell up. that keep this form moving and swaying in the breeze. those trees are changing.

storing energy. releasing life. pushing buds up from dark dead limbs. bursting open with a frenzy of petals and scent.

i am forcing my trees to stand tall. to reach outwards. to leave myself vulnerable and open.

i could allow myself to harden. to wither. to let all my leaves drop and my heart to shrivel.

but i won't.

my forest has grown. matured. deepened.

i will not let a small flurry of clouds and stormy weather determine the seasons of my heart.

i will bend. i will not break. i will be gentle. i will be strong. i will raise my arms and my eyes. i will lift my voice.

i will live.