Falling (Formely Entitled One Mere Soul) Poem by Maya Reid

The air has long since turned cold
Jack Frost whistles his tune ahead
He’ll be here much too soon
I don’t know what will become of me
When he arrives

My brothers and sisters
They’ve already given up
Let go and drifted away
The trip looks fun
But I could never get back
And I’m safe up here
So I think I’ll just say

The trip looks fun
But so very scary
Each of Jack’s puffs
Threatening to blow me astray
And the ground looks so soft
But with all the passing people
I fear I’d just get crushed

There is this one particular patch of grass
Oh, there I’d love to rest my weary stem
And Jackie’s winds are blowing stronger
Wait, what am I thinking – I can’t give in!

The weeks pass and Jack is here
He’s building a castle in the clouds, settling in
I toss and I turn as I wrestle with him
Buying time, postponing the inevitable
See, I have this sneaking suspicion he’s going to win
Unless I’m fittin’ to get ripped off this branch
I think I just might have to jump

Which, after all, might not be so bad
Since there is that one particular patch of grass
On which I would love to rest my weary stem

As I’m pepping and prepping, the wind picks up
Jackie flies by and rips me off my perch
Picks me up and tosses me among his winds
And laughs as I’m tossed astray
Away from all the things I’ve ever wanted
My roughed-up diamond in the rough
That patch of grass I wanted to call my own

But see, there’s a force none of us planned on
A force stronger than my will and Jack combined
Because I was mesmerized and he ran out of breath
Leaving one unexpected thing left
As his winds died down I fluttered toward the ground
And landed on that very spot
That one particular patch of grass
For who was I – or even Jack – to compete with gravity?

A girl braving the weather marches by
Laughing as she digests the scene
She sighs to no one in particular
As she imagines thousands of leaves and petals
All fluttering their crazed paths to individual patches of grass
‘Reminds me of falling in love…
…Who is one mere soul to fight such a thing? ’