1.19.25 // I can feel it

I can feel it in the way the air kisses the back of my neck,
how the tiny hairs rise so delicately after being softly caressed.

I feel it in the way my heart stirs in the first moments of waking-
a heaviness in my stomach, like a pit,
lingering even with refreshed eyes and a calm heart.

I feel it in the way my mind searches for guidance,
turning toward the wind,
the air that whispers delicate reminders:
protection, encouragement,
that things are changing.
That I’m changing.

I feel it in ways I tried to deny,
clinging to the me that felt safe.
If I’m known, I am safe.
If I’m known, I can be loved.
If I’m known, I can rest in that knowing—
be in myself.
Just be.

But the illusion of knowing self is damning,
like the inevitable winter
that follows a summer bloom.
Growth is no longer an option;
death and rebirth
are already on the horizon.

I feel it in the way nature guides us—
the subtle shifts of seasons,
the passing of time.

Even with my heels dug deep into the dirt,
I feel it coming.
But I can stand still only so long,
until the soil claims me,
pulling me back to the earth.
Still, that won’t stop change from coming.

It’s happening.

It’s here.