I saw a big brown leaf in the park
three hands wide
it lay on the ground at the foot of a tree
the sight of it moved me to cry

some kind of gorgeous, some kind of grace, some kind of elegant, so easy to face its death

I want to fall like a leaf
when it’s my time
I want to fall to a brave voice calling
I want to fall and fly like in a dream
no hoisting and no hauling

I want to fall in a field that floats on water
on water that floats on air
I want to fall as silken lace, in the space of everywhere

I want to fall in step with breezes that sweep
I want to fall like a song that encircles my sleep
I want to fall like the eased breath of permission

I caught myself
as I sniffed the leaf’s sweet smell
I caught myself wishing
I could die so beautifully well

to loosen the hold
at the end of my stem
to cascade down on the wind’s sturdy hem
on a designated day

no hesitation or fears
in the company of likely, designated peers
envy pours over my tears

the brown pages turn
strewn about the moistened earth
telling a tale of order

so, says the tale
the tree remains standing
nothing crucial has died at all
we leaves are merely accessories
mere fodder at the tree’s beck and call
dispensable in the fall

so, I am like the leaf
I am like the leaf
I am like the leaf
after all





Booing Death (with Shpilkes & Rhymes) excerpt

©2013 Pamela Sackett
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