Last leaf standing : the poem I wrote 4 weeks before my burnout
Last leaf standing
Out on a limb
Through stormy weather
And reckless winds
Hit by rain
Struck here, tossed there
Yet she clings to her branch
With all her might
Determined to fight
The days of peaceful warm breeze
With sisters waving beside her
Have vanished into the cold, hard winter weather
She alone remains
Farthest from the safe old tree trunk
Most exposed to tempest trials
Helpless, yet defying the elements
She builds up her strength
Stretching to the end
Astonishing those who pause to look
Making pround the tree that nourished her
Believing she would overcome
And the last leaf standing become
***
When I wrote this poem, it hadn’t occurred to me that even the last leaf drops off, eventually. It may have seemed heroic at the time to keep on going while everyone beside me dropped away, but I could only stand so much.
At some point, a tree triggers the release of abscisic acid, the substance responsible for letting go of the leaves. I tried to fight it — but I was not made to stay under such conditions. I dropped off and was flung around aimlessly by the wind for a while.
My old self broke down and laid the compost foundation for a fresh start, secured by a new environment I am busy culitvating to suit my needs and aspirations.
