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.