Trauma

I am in love with the idea of Paris in fall,

A small village, the sky is tinted in orange and gray,

I am sipping on that fall air, forgetting the old hot sun that beat down on me too long

And made me feel like a small child again.

Today is the first day of fall. We felt it today in that bit of chill, didn’t we?

I feel myself morph in fall

I’m sinking into my old, plaintive heart, a skipping that feels like a virile stone set across a deep river that hides something deep, a female voice that floats up

But as the masculine stone skips passively in a way that still feels harsh and intrusive, it still sinks down. A

Drowning that I cannot die from.

I had to once hide from the question of how I would die, or when,

But now I see that it doesn’t matter

Because that one fall day in Paris will be waiting for me

Haunting my eyes. The river has become shallow

Dried

And petrified

Like Jonas at the end of the snow covered hill, hearing that long forgotten music with the endless lights,

I find comfort at the same idea.

***

Author note: the reference of Jonas with the long forgotten music is directly from The Giver by Lois Lowry. I resonate with his character very much.