Changes of Filters by Ivy Jones

Change of Filters

October is like brown, orange, red, and green.

Everything in changing motion.

Progressing from life to death to life again.

The crunch and crisp cracks of leaves being stepped on.

Barren trees left to their own basic frame

So May is like twirls, twists, and color;

Violet, fuchsia, purple, blue, and pastels.

Things change again back to life from death

To growth in the drops form the clouds.

Earlier today I saw the greens of the trees.

Pine, Maple, Spruce, or Douglas.

I don’t know their names

Or shapes of leaves.

In time they will grow.

Some will shed their October colors

And block my clear path of pavement

I ride my bike on now.

There is the sound of whistling wind hitting my ears.

Nor from actual wind

But from my speed and the sitting air.

I have never taken this path.

What will this 35mph curve hold for me?

My death? My starting point?

Maybe the road will end.

No growth beyond this point.

Things must end.

May will sprout the buds and greens over

The hard, cold, vacant pavement slab

That consumes the Earth.

Every grey, yellow, and white road covered.

Recreated with life of spring.

And this too was found on my bike ride.

A small graveyard

And a head stone of a cross.

The crisp morning air stings my lungs

And cleanses any pollution that could consume.

I stood there for some time,

Just staring.

The sun was rising, slowly with time

Passing. Then a moment came

Where the sun pierced through the breaks

Of the trees and spaces of leaves.

Shining down on this head stone

Like a calling from something bigger.

Once in a dream I was drowning.

My life didn’t appear in order

Or flash before my eyes.

Everything faded away with each second my breath was held.

It wasn’t fast,

But slow.

The only thing I could see

Were the small bubbles of air

Escaping my lungs.

In moments I would be dead

And could feel the water consuming me.

Finally I had to breathe,

There was nothing I could do.

Yet as I did this,

It was not death but a new life.

I was home,

I was breathing,

I was swimming.

II.)

I never thought life could be as simple

As breathing in.

I was counting in my head.

One, two, three, and four.

And

One, two, three, and four.

Following has never been a strong suit.

The black and white filled the room

Which made the whole setting worse.

The hard wood under my shoes

Felt smooth and in a way slick.

As though one false step

Would have me laying on the ground

In pain and humiliation.

Not me!

I refuse to be “the one.”

“The one” who makes the night memorable

By doing something dumb.

Believe me what happened next was “the one” moment.

Yes it was me.

Of course it was me.

It was always me.

Looking at the man and I

Stepped close enough to see

His wrinkled, cream, clay skin

And then saw it.

The crack.

That was not a planned design.

I reached and then…

“BAM!” “SHAM!”

The was nothing and I mean nothing

Would or could fix what just happened.

One step and I became “the one.”

It’s like that moment when

Cotton Eye Joe starts playing

In a ballroom and everyone is dressed in tuxes and gowns.

The worst thing you ever said to me

Was that you loved me.

Moments of doubt flooded over me.

Guilt, repulsion, pain, and pressure

Are the only emotional responses.

These days I’m like a leaf on a tree in October.

Trying to fall off with every gust

Of cold, autumn wind but cannot break free.

I have been a circus performer

For too long now.

The thrill, no longer.

By May we would have tracked

Across all of America and parts of Canada

By now.

Families aren’t interested.

My title was “The Flying Girl.”

People flooded in to see me.

I am no longer that girl.

No longer the girl on the poster.

Listen: The only thing you need to know

About life is that it is yours.

Your choices, your mistakes,

Your hair, clothes, skin, body,

Your moment of greatness

Or sadness.

No one else but

Yours.

Once in October I walked up

The campus hill.

Everything was beautiful

With reds, oranges, and browns.

The air was cold and required

Me to wear a heavy coat and mittens.

This was the first time I realized

I was truly a college student.

The effects had set in and I now felt

The burden which I have carried

Ever since.

Life would not stop for me.

My choices and mistakes will take me far.

But it is not October,

It is May and life is recreated

With the life of spring.

The basic frames of trees and stems

Are now blossomed and full of green

And colored bulbs.

Dreams will carry me to new places

And adventures but it will be filled

With my own moments.