Fall Falling Fallen into this Body

It is no betrayal; it is a testament.

Every scrape, every scar,
is proof of battles weathered.
Every swing, every shift,
is proof of endurance.

A map of your Becoming.
You were made for this season.

Reshaping, resharpening.
Let life demand what it will.
You are not bowed.
You are not bent.
You are stone, you are river,
you are a flame.

A device of Existence.
You were made for this season.

You juggle the names they give you
parent, spouse, child, worker, fixer.
Beneath it all,
under the noise, below the apprehension
Self is forging a new Creation.
A stripping away of what no longer fits.

An organiser of Form
You were made for this season.

Curves are amplified as the body shifts.
Soft where there once was firm.
Silver cobwebs stitch light into the dark.
The skin grows honest.
Deep lines where there once was blushed satin.

The gait grows decisive
and accurate.
It knows where it goes.

Change is not a forfeit.
This is a Victory.
You were made for this season.

Roots deepen as branches bend.
Let the world demand,
let time carve its signatures,
you are not diminished.

The voice grows certain.
The heart beats a more precise rhythm.

A Tutor in training.
You were made for this season

You carry the endless lists that try to name you.
Still, beneath the weight of these identities,
the stream of Self keeps singing stridently.

Take the breath deep before the next refrain.
Don’t be fooled by the occasional whimper.
It too has purpose.

Listen to the oncoming storm.
It too is driven by power.

And if the world feels heavy,
Rest your head for a moment
in your creased hands.

Let it rest for a moment
in your disremembering mind.

Let it rest for a moment
in the eyes of your life-lined face.

Let it rest for a moment
in the secret knowledge you have held
as only a mother can hold so wisely.

You’ll know how to step next.
You were made for this season.

by Joëlle Rabu 10.04.2025
Photo: Passionflower by Joëlle Rabu