New Leaves

Funny how

Just last Monday, I felt as if

Everything was horrible, I hated myself, that life

Rested heavy on my shoulders

(For no actual reason—perhaps that made it worse)

And now that time feels so long ago

Like a distant memory, something experienced

By a person who is no longer me.

It’s Friday now.

I sit, staring out

One of the huge, sectioned windows of the library

Quietly marveling at the beauty

Of the tree outside, the

Intricate branches, the sprays of green leaves

Just fine enough

To see the sky through the gaps. A hawk

Slowly circles, disappearing from one window

To re-appear in the next.

I saw my old neighbor today, after years and years.

She didn’t even look like the same person.

(I think of the fortune cookie my brother opened last week—

“You will soon meet somebody from your past”

“But everyone we know is in our past,” we said,

“Anyone you aren’t looking at

Right now”)

We talked about school and colleges

And about how things have changed

And it’s funny how the people who share

Pieces of your childhood

Can leave and grow up without you

We carry the same memories, but we’re different people now

I knew her once, but now I don’t.

I turn over a quiet melancholy

And stare through the glass at the fluttering leaves

Until the windows themselves seem to become a poem, wordless,

Etched into my mind.

Only a few months ago

The branches of that tree were bare. Now each leaf

Is new, but the tree

Is still the same. I hated myself last Monday

And I know I’ll hate myself again

But I don’t hate myself today. The leaves shimmer,

And the sky is so bright

That when I close my eyes, I see colors, changed.