Permission to Change

Trees bloom again —
rings wider,
branches longer,
flowers brighter;
a familiar Spring cycle
of evolution.

Familiar faces
drift through my memory —
those who encountered me
one year ago,
three years ago,
ten years ago,
thirty years ago

Friends whose paths
have curved away from mine.

Do I live in a locked box
in their memory the way
they live in mine?
Faint impressions loop
of prior connection—
A laugh we shared,
a certain point of view agreed upon,
a break of misunderstanding,
a comment made in haste.

The pace of minutes
age the drapery of skin I wear,
despite my choosing.

Mindful, daily steps
offer the vessel of soul I bear
to evolve with the seasons.

I can’t change past encounters
or perceptions (still held)
of who I was.

As snow drifts on —
I look to the promise of Spring.
I dwell upon experiences
that have allowed me to sift,
shift views, expand choices.

As the tree is still a tree,
I’m still Ally.

As the tree stretches wide,
I have too.

Core is the same.
View has grown.

I realize —
I own the key to the locked box within.

(Click, Clack)

Just like that.
Box opens. Permission granted —
for evolution to be celebrated.

As I free myself from who “I was”,
I also liberate the faded memories of others
into their becoming.