October

These thoughts flow behind me, through the haze of blood spun hair, floating in the water
as endless rains of emotions cross my face:
Soothing piano music in the background, or perhaps in the background of my mind, for I have no music playing,
and all I feel is peace.

I remember, as I smell the scent of lavender candles, the dreamy quiet town through which smiling pedestrians and shop keepers greet each other,
I've worn lavender perfume in my hair every time I've gone there.
And I remember visiting the tiny cemetery upon the hill, time and time again, and sitting alone on the stone benches,
wondering at the beauty surrounding me,
and again I revisit that beauty and that peace, as the colored lights reflect off the water submerging my body.

The steam rises higher in the air.

I remember, as I smell the juniper incense that I've lit, the way it feels to be cradled in his arms.
I smelled that incense the night I told him I loved him, too.
And I remember the cottage in the autumn woods, the chestnut hillside where the wooden swing hangs from a lone oak tree,
I watched her sitting there, lost in each falling leaf
she is the picture of lost innocence.
And I remember, watching the steam cover the mirror, candlelight reflections making the glass shimmer,
the tears I shed when I thought of everything we've lost
and everything we have yet to gain,
and I once more I shed these tears, though my mind is still at ease.

I feel each emotion surge through my body
Twenty counts of breath in and twenty-five out, inhaling the scents of everything surrounding me, inhaling my happiness, my total peace,
and then exhaling, exhaling these tears and everything I've felt, exhaling and soon forgetting the headache and backache, and the cough itching at my throat,
Feeling everything lift away like a lead blanket, away from me, off of me, and I want to jump in the leaves, let the rain drench my body, feel my toes in the cold grass at dawn
and I know I soon will.

Now I smell the pink roses in my lotion, like petals submerging my body,
feel the oil over my skin,
taste the happiness collecting at the corners of my lips.
For now I know, in this moment, nothing will hurt me.
And I am the rose, and the juniper blossoms, and the lavender, and I know who I am.
I am me, I am Erica, and everything is clear like sheets of falling water.


Autumn.






My fever has lifted.