Seasons

Back and forth, back and forth
to the humdrum rhythm of my heart,
My stagnant body begins to move
despite multitudes of false starts.

As my blood begins to pump
I hesitantly greet each body section and slice –
Acknowledge the metallic tang on my tongue,
the pent up energy in my thighs.

The world of forms so lacklustre,
when will the dark nothingness of Winter end?
Depsite the boundlessness that surrounds,
why does it feel that I cannot bend?

I am a tree –
My branches frozen and weak,
this cold feels limitless,
the future so bleak.

It feels foreign to me
that some trees have not yet lost their leaves,
perhaps they too
cling to the idea of who they used to be.

The home I left was burning hot,
fires raging in unrelenting fury through the rolling hills –
Yet here I now stand in a land of harsh snow
and it’s given me the chills.

The spirits of nature
have many a wise word to convey,
including the beautifully terrifying Truth –
things always change.

At home if I felt lost
I’d get down close to the rich, dark soil and pray,
but here I have to deal with it differently,
say fuck it, and get up on stage.

And so,
In moving directly from the carefree abundance of Summer
to this frozen Winter tundra,
I am learning of the innumerable ways in which
the Earth can be my Mother.

She whispers:
Let yourself dance in jest of every internal fight,
surrender to that which you cannot control,
enjoy the gentle sun on your skin, white snow on your lips,
chop wood, carry water –
Spring will be here in a little bit.

So empty I stand
in the midst of this boundless foreign land,
eyes toward the horizon and
fire within,
I patiently sow seeds
whilst I wait for the growth to begin.

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