healers
last night
the sky was a vivid blue
the air dry and cold
evening brought a frigid clarity
creeping it’s way down
between the layers
through my skin
into whatever form a soul takes
i’ve always thought of my soul
taking the form of autumn
brilliant colors painting a landscape
a backdrop to fires and hikes
to deep breaths of fresh air
we write poems about the leaves
floating to the ground
on a fall day
but the leaves don’t fall together
each leaf falls alone
has no-one to lift it up
fix it to a branch
offer it one more season
and this is how the cold
brings it’s clarity
chilling any half-truths away
those leaves were so loved
when they offered their display
their choreographed colors
but the loneliness of death
makes life seem a false beauty
when my leaf falls
i hope you’ll be there
to watch that gentle glide down
to see me rest softly on the earth
and, maybe, to pick me up
your hands have always been healers
and my soul, always in need of healing