I never valued my life until now
Three and a half decades of autumn
Withering
Waiting for the freeze
Not wanting to leave, but accepting it would happen
Soft crunches and mist
I found the solitude peaceful
I loved fall
I still do
But now it feels too cool
Stinging my face
I turn the other way
Hoping to catch a glimpse of spring
Sprouting and hatching
Eager for new life
Knowing it will get here in it’s own sweet time

This weekend I named the creature that goes to bed with me every night
This weekend I was ill
This weekend I hurt myself
This weekend I forgave myself
This weekend I found a network of likeminded folk
This weekend I noticed behavioural patterns
This weekend I couldn't explain away my feelings using my sociological beliefs
This weekend I was
This weekend I accepted nobody was at fault
This weekend I let love in
This weekend I made plans for May
This weekend I watched videos of my nephew and felt unending joy
This weekend I discovered a charity that offers counselling to people who have experienced my trauma
This weekend I admitted defeat
This weekend I armed myself for the next battle
This weekend I looked at flats to buy
This weekend I got published again
This weekend I hugged someone
This weekend I joked with my friends for the first time in months
This weekend I read everything I could find on adoptee experiences
This weekend I decided not to feel guilty about being overwhelmed
This weekend I changed the bedding and went promptly back to sleep
This weekend I ate the most delicious Easter Egg
This weekend I lounged around
This weekend I failed
This weekend I redefined failure
This weekend I recognised a panic attack before it happened
This weekend I visited the supermarket and was OK with the sensory overload
This weekend I didn't try to make myself smaller as not to inconvenience others
This weekend I sent some books to an ex-partner
This weekend I missed people I am geographically separated from
This weekend I listened to the Clash
This weekend I shared my thoughts with you
This weekend I thanked this weekend

The room has become a cocoon
A neutral chrysalis
Windows might as well be walls
Rain taps expectantly
No stirring
No growth
A constant lull
This one will be a dud

It taps in
patterns of
threes then leaves
for a while

The rhythm
regular
is at ease

But broken
becomes
unfamiliar

Near hostile

Four or five
Breeze carrying mutters inside
Rectangles shifting against the magnolia
Like presentation slides
Whoosh

Why stop on the sidewalk
And face the window?
Bike lights bright
Spokes ticking
Chain tittering

Knocks follow
Arms move like a crane
Lifting me back into place
Whispers tell me it’s OK
It’s not