Fall

Not every loss is a wound,

Some are whispers of release.

A quiet loosening of what once was,

To make space for what might be.

Autumn does not mourn its leaves,

It does not clutch at green,

Or beg the sun to stay.

It simply exhales,

A breath of gold.

A sigh of rust,

 A letting go of that, that glows.

We are taught to hold on,

To youth, to love, to certainty.

 But the trees know better,

They know that shedding,

Is not the same as breaking.

That bare branches,

Are not at all barren hearts,

They are the beginning,

Of becoming something new again.

So let the winds take what they must,

Let the colors fade without fear.

Because there is beauty in the bareness,

Truth in the turning,

And grace in the goodbyes.

Because to let go, Is not to lose.

It is to trust,

That what falls away,

Was perhaps,

never meant to stay.

-Aarika Ishi