Come this fall
I will walk the fine line
between pretension and humility
arrogance and sincerity,
and there will be
funerals and wedding bells
and first moments and last breaths
Come this fall
I will set out on the journey
to uncover what lies beneath
the tragic tales and illustrious lies
all the made up, tentative thoughts
of being, of prolonging this phase
in which we are dying, all
dying, awaiting the final return
Come this fall
I will tread softly on sacred spaces,
and when I have tarried for only a day or two,
I will no longer recall names
of those I love
and secrets once huddled in winter clothes
will come spilling into the cold night air
and I will await the final judgment
in humility, in sincerity,
when scrolls of deeds unfurl
a beautiful, haunting piece – dark, as befits a fall poem