SEASONS OF CHANGE
The single red maple leaf fell
Ever so gently from the yellowing sky —
Gentle it may have been, kind it was not.
In denial, we buried our faces
In the last moments of spring —
Bright roses on borrowed time,
Achingly cheerful in the bleak autumn air.
We were unwilling to embrace
The turn of the seasons,
Un-willing its advances
Via the frantic gathering of relics,
Dried and pressed, an album of faded prints —
Our epitaph for a beautiful summer.
But our efforts were in vain.
As suddenly as it came, summer left.
One morning, I woke up
To find my world stained with its blood.
In the rose garden, now a bed of thorns,
I lay myself to rest; bled myself dry,
My blood a morbid parody of the lost red blooms,
The throbbing pain a constant,
Stinging reminder of what I have lost.
Even so, time is unsympathetic towards loss.
In a few weeks, he will wash away my blood,
Erased by the unforgiving nonchalance
Of featureless, numbing winter.
Yet, spring will come again.
We will peek out from our hopeless prisons
In search of the first shy buds.
A few more weeks of devoted watering
And it will be as if winter never came.
Because life is a bed of roses —
When winter comes and the flowers wither,
You will prick yourself on its vicious thorns.
Cry all you want; bleed all you need
But that’s all fine.
Last year’s blooms were indeed beautiful.
Even though not the same, rest assured —
Next year’s flowers will still be as plentiful.
Someone once asked me if it was easy for me to let go of someone you love. I told him that it’s rather easy once you come to realise that there is no use in trying to hold on to someone who is determined to leave.
What I didn’t mention was how immensely painful the process will be.
I suppose that, like it or not, everyone is haunted by his past. We desperately hold on to things, circumstances, and people who have since walked out of our lives. It hurts, and we cry buckets in the weeks after our lives have been turned upside down. The world tells us to get a grip on ourselves, but we know we’re not okay. But, really, it’s okay to not be okay.
Because the best way to let go is to just, well, let go. Go through the motions, even if it hurts, even if it feels unnatural. Soon, you will realise that everything will feel normal again.
And so I will accept my pain, but I will live as though it’s not there. And, soon, we will be normal again, as if nothing’s changed.