what are your demons called?

Two blankets deep

close to the ground

Feeling Mother Earth align my spine and whisper on my neck,

searching the air for songs and humming creatures

so I can greet them and then lay still

in hopes they will mistake me for one of their own.

Lately the days grow shorter, the sun tires earlier, the breeze in the morning turns significantly colder

and I feel the need to steep in the lingering magic of Summer-

The leaves already started saying goodbye to their home in the sky

they tell me they’re ready to meet death

without a shadow of fear as gravity pushes them into the dirt without hesitation.

I wish I had as much faith in rebirth as they do.

But here comes Autumn

as I desperately try to hang on to my wildflowers

and declare that I’m not ready yet-

I’m not ready to shed the golden skin I’ve perfected,

I’m not ready to transform into God-knows-what,

but Father Time doesn’t care if I’m ready or not

whether day by day or as if a sudden hit over the head

Summer ends, Autumn comes

change finds each of us

and drags us deep within-

maybe it’s the only way we’ll face our demons this Winter-

Autumn is here as the friend that first tries to convince us

to transform, to surrender into what appears to be a deep sleep (but is actually a great awakening) as the surrounding world  prepares to die

and before a reckless Winter forces us to sit

and meet and name and befriend

all our demons.



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