Written By - Tessa Cash

It’s the yellow colour.
An orange tinged rust.
The seven.
The days of summer running out.
My freedom disappearing like rushing water down an ungrateful drain.
Time feeling short.
The dreaded hunch of not knowing if I’ll be able to cope.
The feeling of being trapped,
The discomfort of writing the page on the alternate.
What is to come?
I didn’t plan this far.
I didn’t think I’d make it beyond 27.
Maybe my soul knew what was coming.
How hard it would be.
How many times I’d have to die to be reborn to have the strength and courage to continue
To endure,
To persevere.
It feels heavy.
Tight and achey.
Reminiscent of old wounds that linger at dusk.
A gentle temperament and a silent knowing that flows from the chords of my womb deeply into the earth of this land reminds me of safety.
*it’s okay to let go*
It’s the end of all that begun 17 years ago.
Here we are.
We made it somewhere over the rainbow,
No need to shelter from the storm.
We wait in the perpetual stillness my soul has covertly yearned for.
A thirst that, was, indeed, worth orbiting the earth for.