A Winter Poem

The beasts of winter at my door, knock on my weary bones

Achy heart and mournful soul, crying and forlorn

I long for things that aren’t for me, the dead, and past decayed

The time that’s past has yet to come when we dwell in yesterday

Like winter ghosts from long gone days

I scratch your window pane

My covers ripped from clinging limbs by the winds of change

The days are short and quiet now, no time for summer songs

I carry on, you in my heart, but that part of me is gone


I wrote this poem as I was sitting at my favorite lake. The reflections in the water reminded me of how our ideas of ourselves are mostly made up of other people’s thoughts about us. Sometimes the ideas they have of us are so far off from who we really are that we lose ourselves in other people’s reflections. For better or worse these are what make up our sense of self and end up being our memories. It takes a lot of self-compassion and commitment to find out who we really are. When I sit in nature and words with emotion come to me, I feel a little bit closer to who I really am.

I thought I saw a child in a reflection on the lake.
A distorted image of myself passed down from long gone days.
The crystal water spinning stories a million different ways.
Those long forgotten truths, replaced by made up memories.
Reflected in the water, grown, fabled and believed.
Those ripples stretched the truth so far, It was impossible to see.
The things I thought were true were nothing more than dreams.
Now I keep on going back there to see if things have changed, the things I held up as my life, a reflection on the lake.
And even though they’re only dreams, they helped me to survive.
So I’ll just keep believing them for as long as I’m alive.

A Love Poem to Fall

Have you noticed the change?

The way the day feels different and the sun stretches through the trees?

The way the light picks up color from the leaves and moves it across the horizon?

These days are somber and solemn and reverent.

Our beautiful mother has ask us to whisper.

To be respectful of her children as they grieve.

To join in their stillness as they let go.

And to weep for these days that are golden and mournful and lovely.

Have you noticed?

A love poem to fall.

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