Fallen Leaves

https://unsplash.com/@renaudcfx

*

Fallen Leaves

By Jane Tawel

October 3, 2025

*

Falling leaves…

How we complain

The work to gather them

with rake or glove- ed hands.

Why not let them lie in peace?

And let the winter storms

cover or disperse them, as they will?

*

I remember times of joy

in making piles of leaves.

When the boy and girl

would come and mess the piles

by jumping into mountains

flattening them to plains

that tiny hands and feet could tread with ease.

I remember times of laugher,

as all my gathered, hard-worked piles

would be the brightly colored ammunition

of flinging, flying, softly crackling leaves.

What an arsenal of happy thoughts,

could be a pile of leaves.

We held the leaves like fluttering birds

No longer leaves imprisoned in a cage of tree or bin,

But free in flight with new-grown wings,

The leaves no longer fallen, but redeemed.

*

A single leaf alone, left on a tree,

is much a lonely thing that clings,

to what is past and can not grow

until it dies to rise again, mysteriously in Spring.

But fallen leaves tell all our ends.

And myths are made from simple things.

We all shall fall

and soon decay — 

But ah! — to use my final days

in being gathered, gathered, gathered up,

with all the small, soft-colored things

by Hands that fling me towards the sky

Where flying up — I find I am no longer just one leaf,

But something beautiful with wings.

© Jane Tawel, 2025

And Let Me Catch Them Up

By Jane Tawel

Circle Dance

And Let Me Catch Them Up

By Jane Tawel

July 21, 2023

*

And when I go,

Yes, when I rise,

Oh, if I rise

when leaving here,

then let my arms be strong and long.

And let me catch them up.

*

For all those folks,

for those I know and do not know,

who think they’ve found their own way,

I will not trouble my mind about them.

I will not stress

the parameters of my own very small soul

with questions about their destiny.

Especially for those who feel there are no questions left.

I’ll let them trust in what they trust,

and agree that they’ve found their own way.

But for my loves,

my own dear loves,

who have seen too many battles fought

by those who think they own The Way;

for my true loves, my own true loves,

who are scarred into inactivity,

demeaned into a frigid heat of bored anger

by those who put a price on Love,

Love, meant to be free to all;

Oh, for my loves, my precious pearls — 

I do not ask You to change them, but — 

Oh, my God, Oh, my God,

Oh, let me catch them up!

*

Oh, for the ones I hold so dear,

the ones I love,

love more than my own life,

and because in this strange and troubled Time,

I know my loves,

I know with the surety of old wounds,

that they are not sure

what this fresh blood can mean.

We live in uncertain times.

I know my loves and their doubts,

doubting that they have actually found their way,

no matter what they say.

I know their fears that going forward is not an option,

and not just the way of open-ended appeals.

I know my loves, who walk alongside,

with trepidation if there even is a Way.

Oh, for them,

I shall not depart from the narrow path,

even as I stumble and fall.

Oh, for them,

I shall blindly blunder forth,

even though the light is often fading.

Oh, for them I shall not claim I know anything,

anything but that only Love exists

and that only Love will remain.

Oh, for and with them — 

I shall raise a fist of protest.

I shall raise an opened palm of supplication.

I shall raise a banner over them;

and my banner over them will be Love.

And I shall day and night, cry out — 

at the gates of the cities,

at the shorelines of the oceans,

at the edges of dark woods,

at the embassies of the nations,

and to all living creatures

and to the sun, and moon and stars,

I shall cry:

Oh, let me catch them up with me!

Let me grab onto a little finger,

or a strand of hair,

or grasp a big fat toe.

And let me hold their precious spirits close,

as I go on my Way (I hope to God)

and as The Way, (I pray) leads me on,

and further up and in,

I shall grab hold of them!”

*

And in that moment,

that final moment,

when all is changed forever and a day — 

Oh, may my heart be huge enough,

my soul be meek enough,

my self be gone enough,

my fears and doubts be purged enough,

to carry just enough,

and just enough faith and grace

for all of us.

Oh, may my love and Your Love,

and all my foolish floundering,

but still straight-ish path-ed love of You,

may all of me,

regardless of how small and weak,

regardless of how much wondering and wandering

that still lies within and ahead of me,

may I be enough,

enough to carry them again, as once I did,

(or might have tried to do, if asked),

enough to carry them, as You have always carried me.

And may they not feel my arms,

but feel only Truth and Peace.

*

No matter what is,

or what will be,

of all we do not know now,

may Divine Embrace of hope and love

be enough for me,

enough for all of them.

*

And let me catch them up.

Oh, let me catch them up,

to rise,

to rise,

to rise,

and forever be,

caught up in The Great Dance.

© Jane Tawel, 2023