I wasn’t ready for Autumn: A poem about change and letting go

Dear reader,

Today I am sending you a postcard from my soul.

There is a reason why this blog is called Poema Postcards and that is because poetry is one of my favorite ways of expression.

Ever since I was a child, writing has helped me process my emotions and for me personally there is nothing more healing than putting my thoughts and feelings on paper.

For the longest time, I have been too insecure to share my writings with the world. But now I am in a season of my life where I am trying to let go of shame and self-criticism.

Here is my attempt at sharing a more vulnerable part of myself without the fear of judgement.🙈

I wonder: when the world feels too loud, where do you go?
What is your sacred outlet, your way of making sense of it all? And most importantly: how do you deal with change and letting go?

And if my poem stirs something in you, whether a thought, a memory, or simply a feeling, don’t hold back, I would love to hear your feedback!😊

I wasn’t ready for autumn
Just as you’re never ready for death,
But they both do their work, without reproach—
They crowd into your soul and bones
A cold shiver, an endless emptiness
That now I welcome with love.
For in the heatwave I had found
A foe far more fierce,
Sweet, honeyed, seductive,
Like a sadistic lover.

September, my autumn torturer,
You have poured down my throat wine and depression
Year after year, a bitter hangover.
I saw you through cobwebbed eyes
Of tears and drunkenness.
Now I see you as you truly are
And I love you as you love
A soul that once was everything to you
And now is nothing
From a distance

I understand you and carry compassion,
For now I see, you too don’t know who you are.
Summer would claim you for itself,
On the calendar autumn is your mother,
And you, rebellious child, would want a season
Only of your own. Just like me.
I know this is what brought us together,
The fault is mine as well.

I understand and I forgive you,
But in your arms I’ll never fall again.
Like a leaf carried by the wind
I want to live my life,
For at last I have understood:
Autumn leaves are butterflies,
And it is worth it to fall, to fall without end,
If that means you’ve flown first
Even for a single second.

And it is worth it to melt into an October sunset,
Red as a lover’s cheeks after the first kiss.
I am no longer afraid of November.
The manifesto of bare trees
Gives me courage to be vulnerable,
To allow myself to fall.

At last I no longer crave what is not mine,
I no longer yearn for summer.
Everything is as it should be:
Autumn outside, autumn within.