To me, Autumn sounds like discordant melodies.
It feels like sitting with our fear a little longer. And not running away.
It tastes like the thrill of spicy red wine and kisses that are not causal at all.
Autumn reaches in and pulls bravery out of our chests.
A daring willingness to dance into the darker half of the year.
Night strides into the sky earlier and earlier each day with an inky cloak and paintbrush, and the buzz of Summer settles.
A glorious sort of quiet appears, opening the velvet drapes of our souls.
Autumn feels like depth. Like truth. Like jagged-edges being worn with pride. Like masks coming off. Like speaking our truth. Because we damn well know it’s time.
As the leaves change color and die
We see all that is dying within us, too
We let it happen.
Because it’s beautiful.
Life, death, life, death, life
We trust it.
The phoenix in our bones takes her plunge once again.
We can dance with our demons
And stare fear straight in the face
And see that
The only one who was holding us back
And sure, the world has its hand in that, too.
But as we learn ourselves, we set ourselves free.
Self-knowing is power.
The kind no one can take away.
The kind that rests on sacred ground, against the wild, thirsty pulse of our soul.
The kind we feel whispering in a gust of electric Autumn wind that crashes against our cheeks with wonder.
Yes, sweet freedom!
Let us soar. Let us come home to ourselves more and more and more.
Because as we begin to understand the textures of our depths and valleys, the vast mountains and oceans within us
All that is nice and not-so-pretty
We taste what it is to love ourselves
Leaving no part behind.
In a luscious, all-encompassing embrace.
Photo: Luke Pennystam//Unsplash