The Art Of Falling Poem by Troy Cochran

The Art Of Falling

Rating: 4.7

To shed all pretense to being good and great;
To undisguise,
And make open confession of oneself
Of all one's lifetime of triteness and lies;

To exfoliate,
Like proud Autumn collapsing all the splendor
Of cathedral foliage into the mere debris of trees,
Stripped to bare bark and skeleton hides
And naked reaching;

To sacrifice one's illusionary pride,
Surrender one's insecurity in beauty, in youth,
In the falsification of a reputation,
And go defenseless, balding, and ostracized
From all the littleness of tribal aggreeance;

To stand alone, humiliate;
To self-asphyxiate;

In other words:
To know the Soul!

This is how it feels to die:
To collapse oneself as shoveled man
And find one's Self again,


They never rise who never groveled.
They never tried
Who never braved the jolt
Of being twice alive!

Friday, September 15, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: honesty,nature,seasons,october,autumn,self discovery
Practicing Poetess 17 September 2017

On survivorship: I recently read about a freed hostage, and the comment was made that those freed appreciate freedom even more than those who have always known it. I know that cancer survivors, having once stared death in the face, seem more grateful for their lives, and do not take them for granted so much afterward. This poem says as much, and more. (Of course, the mention of Autumn didn't hurt any, either!) :)

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Troy Cochran 18 September 2017

This poem was written in 2008, as part of a series on the theme of Autumn and self-transformation. (I was simply trying to write as many poems as I could every day of October.) It also turned out that this process helped me shed a lot of my own pretensions and limiting beliefs ~ so I was like a tree myself shedding leaves (be-leafs) . It IS very liberating to come out from under all the weight of the past, rather than dragging it around with me for another quarter century. Now I can say that I am, in the words of the immortal Tweety Bird: Fwee at wast!

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Kumarmani Mahakul 16 September 2017

This is a beautiful poem on nature and honesty having stunning expression with nice collocation. The last stanza is most impressive. Let me quote here... They never rise who never groveled. They never tried Who never braved the jolt Of being twice alive! Thanks for sharing. Full vote.

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Troy Cochran 17 September 2017

Thank you, Kumarmani. I have certainly grovelled, and I am always picking myself back up: I bounce up and down like the sun. To brave the jolt of living largely, well, that is the journey, isn't it? That these lines above resonate with you speaks very highly of my fellow journeyman, and I am honored.

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