October will be my spring
held aloft in the soft pine needles of the stratus cloud
placid waters a gelid graveyard, stagnant
waiting
“Be still,
don’t try harder,” the adage whispers; I breathe.
Sometimes, one can see his reflection on the surface
beneath the periwinkle sun
he contemplates the thought of drowning
believes he must, so that he can live.
october sky was a song dedicated by Yebba to her mother, reminiscing a beautiful memory of the woman she was, before she was lost to suicide.
i wrote this for me. i’m sharing it now, for those waiting on their promise of a spring, trying their best to stay. it’ll come.
The-Bleu-Bivouac 