Misty Autum
Living in a cloud
With blinking eyes, I cycle through it.
It embraces my whole body; it is silent.
It feels neither cold nor warm, but I have to go through it. I don’t drown in it, but I feel like a fish in the sea who doesn’t know what the concept of water is.
Eventually, I stop on a bridge and look over the water. I see it rising, but it doesn’t carry me away. It rises through me. I see others cyling through it like shadows; it stretches beyond my sight. With their blinking lights, the gas curtain closes behind them as they go further.
The mist.
That’s also how it feels to process grief. You can’t see beyond today and now. But you have to go through it; your eyes blink from the pain, but still, you drift forward. You have to. Behind the curtain stand work life, friendships, sports, goals - all that continues without you.
When I think of autumn, I think of thick woolen sweaters, burning candles, misty days, and of you. But it comes back every year. Some things never change. Then I know I can get through it again. I feel you close to me once more. Your presence embraces me; the pain doesn’t carry me away, the grief rises through me, with your warmth around me.
Yours faithfully,
CJ Felicia.
© Lois Smit