But I looked out the window. The sky was white but the glow from it dark. The trees were caught in between. Some bare and free of everything they carried through last season. Some, still hanging on, holding the weight of what is to pass. In a sense I felt like those trees. But there was more uncertainty in my own eyes. Not terrified or fearful, but uncertain and confused. Yes, I like the mess, and not knowing a kind of high. But movement is to be made and decisions forced upon me. I laugh to myself though. Because really, we as humans are all alike. I listen as the person next to me talks of their life and the plans they are to live out in the next four years. I hear mapped out lives and guaranteed plans. Silly, really. For tomorrow brings something that all of us can question. And the next day, another sky. Perhaps with colors brighter than today’s. But we act as though we need the answers. Insecure unless wrapped in pointless security. I like to think finding it day by day is grander. The wind kissing one, just to take another. It’s beautiful in the most unconventional way. And though this season is coming upon me, in my thoughts and those who advise me, I’m looking out more windows smiling because we’re all the same. And another leaf fell.
The Forest of Ambiguity
About the Author
Emie Peterson has been writing poetry and short blog exerts for the past four years. She was encouraged by the few close friends that she should keep writing, and publish her work for more people to read. Emie is currently studying Sustainability Management and minoring in writing at Goshen College. She wants to continue writing poetry and incorporate environmental writing and awareness into her future work as well.