Like a Tree in November
One by one I will let my leaves fall
All those things that hide my true being:
The words, the smiles, the clothes
Those outward things even I think are me.
Each one detached and falling
Slowly like petals from the cherry tree,
Surrounding my feet, shifting in the breeze
Before settling to begin the slow transition
To mulch and worm food and raw earth.
Then I shall stand naked, stripped bare
Like a tree after November gales.
You will see my true shape unmasked
By pretty colours and shifting shapes
And the confusion of shimmering sunshine.
Then we will see who I might be,
Beneath this coat of many colours
These tales of a thousand nights
And my Scheherazade soul
Who would spin out yet another story
To keep you entertained and distracted
From the true business of staying alive,
Will be faced with the final question:
Who am I?