Falling Gracefully

Today I sat under the pear tree

Leaned my back against its trunk

Propped up my legs and spilled inside my journal

The autumn chill felt much like winter

I wrote carefully my thoughts as they consumed my mind

Thinking seemed to be one tracked

“How to undo this web of mess I’ve begun”

The fervor of rage has taken my peace

Replaced it with fumes of detestation

Breeding inside was a declared destruction

For once,

I saw outside myself, to look inward

Epiphanies weren’t new ideas

Just the old worn ignored thoughts that were newly dressed

As I sat and pondered,

The road to hell seemed closer than I desired

It seems I have traveled this back alley for some time

The tunnel I chose as a short cut brought me closer to dysfunction

With my face cupped in my hands, newer embarrassment formed

“Shame on Me”

You were raised better, have a relationship with the Almighty stronger than ever

So how do you allow yourself to get here?

How?

Warring myself to ward off my inner evil…

Face, it!!!

You aren’t the portrayal that others claimed you to be

Yet, suddenly, you decide to prove them, right?

What kind of hell you done dropped yourself into?

Hell?

I was harder on myself than ever

Words dropped onto the paper in fury, I was having a conversation with myself

Well overdue…

Past overdue…

But was I listening?

The wind shook the leaves, they fell upon the pages

I sat there to stare

First fleetingly

I then became focused with one leaf

I studied it front and back

The crisp and dying edges, the three in one coloring

The way it fell wasn’t a plummeting fall upon my lap

It fell gracefully

Floating until it reached a safer haven

Carrying with it… a message

Ah, now I see,

I turned the page in my journal and I paused for a long moment

Seems like hours which only transferred into reality time…

a few brief seconds

Sometimes we fall so we can get back up…

But when you do, don’t plunge hard, don’t hurt yourself

Fall with some grace and dignity…

Then GET UP!

No, that leaf will never get back up,

Perhaps turn into fertilizer for the soil of the earth

In an instance, a rebirth

A reincarnation of some sort

A recycled existence

Then again, maybe its purpose was fulfilled

Just by falling upon my lap…

To direct me to my purpose!

© Shantelle ‘Elle’ McLin

Excerpt from the book Beyond Nursery Rhymes; Real Life Tales

$14.95 Plus Shipping ~ Available at CTU Publishing Group and Amazon.com

About the Author

Recreational writing began for this author at the age of 9 in journal formatting.  Her creativeness was sparked in Middle school during a notable visit to the library with her best friend. With an outdated range of selections, she instantly identified with the poets’ generations before her; she had found her outlet. While facing great personal difficulties, Elle treated poetry as a feel-good remedy to her melancholic episodes. This would become freeing to a young and timid adolescent, as she discovered her voice. Writing would become a soother and her pen, a microphone to express her challenges.

Visit Elle’s Author Page At www.ctupublishinggroup.com/shantelle-elle-mclin.html

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