Autumn. Or Fall.

A plastic bag sits in the freshly harvested field

The wind slowly rustling it, but it’s stuck in the stocks.

The leaves are still on the trees

The wind slowly rustling them, but soon they will fall.

 

The grass green.

The flowers fading.

The sky ever changing.

 

Sunsets earlier and sunrises later.

The light lessens and the darkness increases.

Blankets. Tea. A good book.

Snuggles with pets and Netflix for cold, rainy days.

 

Heat turning on AC seldom used.

Final bonfires and fireplaces regularly being lit.

Extra layers, cardigans, flannels, jackets, hoodies.

Sandals away and wool socks rediscovered.

 

The smell of things fading, decaying.

A season turning slowly then all at once.

Lingering taste of summer on our lips.

Then forgetting it ever existed.

 

A deep breath in.

A deep breath out.

Now it’s autumn.

Or fall.

Time. Life. Breathe.

Nothing in my life slows down.

People always want me to keep moving.

I want it to stop.

 

Responsibility.
Friends.
Family.
Life.
It.
The World.
Can I find some little world to visit outside of this Americanized time?
This version of linear, strict time which sucks the life out of you?
I just want to sit back and breathe.
Not breathe so I can be alive for tomorrow.
Not breathe remembering the past.
I want to breathe in this moment.
I want.. to breathe.
In… Out.
As the cars rush past my window.
Their tires splashing the rain around in a great, never-ending, melodic symphony.
In… Out.
The smell of my bed sheets. Shampoo. Mint lip balm.
In… Out.
Expanding and collapsing. My body moving to keep me.
In… Out.
Smooth as my pencil sings these individual notes across this page.
In… Out.
My roommates reading, page turning, typing, sighing, breathing.
We are all in this state the world likes to call “alive”.
And not to be cliché or morbid, but I am no longer living.
I’m dead.
And I don’t see me being revived anytime in the near future.
I’m screaming out in my silence and only a few hear my whispers.
My heart’s secret whispers.
Sharing secret whispers. Giving them away even though you want to keep them tightly wrapped up inside.
Giving them is not for others to know. Giving them is not for others to find new meaning in discovering who you are.
Giving this secret part of you away is for you to know they have a secret whisper too.
You share a part of yourself, but you find and replace it with someone else’s part. It connects you…Almost a distraction, but somehow more holy than that.
Through conversations, touch, emotion… we realize we are not as separate as we use to think. We realize we need each other to truly live. We realize we are not alone.
But we forget that. We forget that and we hurt others.
If only people could see pain the same way they see things to critique!
Every action is caused by something.
Joy. Pain. Fear. Guilt. Peace. Love. Sadness. Anger.
Take a step back
and
breathe.
Remember the whole world is breathing.
The whole world has secret whispers in their hearts.
Here we are all just remembering how to breathe.
Pause your mental timeline. Destroy your clocks.
And breathe.
By Winter Burnett
Originally written November 17, 2015
Revised August 30, 2018