I listened to the stirring of leaves in the wind
Awaiting the rest to which they'd come,
But didn't.
In a season of wandering I was aware there'd be but one
Movement and it was all movement, mostly for show.
Stillness would reveal weakness
I wanted nobody to see.
Some said, There's no time limit to your grief.
Some said, This will pass, but never really pass,
You will learn to accept the reality of it.
Some said, You are so strong.
I wasn't.
I listened to the wind and knew or thought or hoped
When it calmed, my heart would beat a little faster
And I would smile again,
Not to belie my emotions, not
To stop friends from saying the right thing,
Not because I am supposed to
Develop and change and continue solo,
But because something I heard in another time
Took its hold in memory until movement
Dispelled it. I felt hairs stand; a chill
– not icy death – but refreshing awareness.
I heard peals of laughter.
Sadness became someone else's burden
– and I no longer heard the wind,
Only something I had heard before.
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