Stepping Outside

Stepping outside reminds me that I’m living

The breeze through my hair 

and the sun on my face 

reminds me that I take up space.

The wind reminds me that even 

when I feel unseen and unheard  

I am still a force to be reckoned with. 

That while the same wind 

could easily knock me over, 

acknowledges my existence 

and brushes past with a hello 

while continue on its way

That my life is small in the scheme of things

But it is still life 

As significant as the flowers 

that pop up in spring 

and die in winter.

That what feels like death 

can be only for a season, 

and new life can come from decay.

That what can feel as oppressive 

as a thick blanket of snow 

can melt away and water sleeping soil.

That age and maturity are as beautiful 

as the leaves that change colors 

and crinkle underneath your feet. 

And that wisdom can look like a layer of frost 

on newly bare branches

Life is full of little deaths 

that give way to new life in cycles t

hat are equal parts 

relentless and refreshing.