Dear Reader,
For Christians the end of October through the beginning of the November is loaded with sacred meaning. On these days we look to the past, to the saints of old, and celebrate their life and example. Here, amongst the golden leaves and shortened days our minds and hearts are drawn back to the mysterious lives of the saints—the ordinary do-gooders, the dragon slayers, the miracle workers, and martyrs.
As I look out my window I watch in slow motion a martyrdom of a different kind. The leaves are turning red, holding on for dear life, as if consumed by some slow burning flame. One by one they will flare out and line the outside of my apartment with their ochre corpses. It's odd that death brings about such beauty.
Yet, that seems to be the way of the world. In death and darkness light and life shine all the brighter and are made meaningful by their brevity.
Now, looking out my window, with the prayers of saints upon my lips, I wonder aloud how we might find light in this ever darkening age—the encroaching winter that proceeds the golden fall…
-Ryan
AN UNLIKELY MARTYR
The beauty of Autumn
is for the tree
a slow death,
stripped bare until all
that's left is her
naked frame.
Her bright auburn leaves
gathered into piles
as if to mock
her barren branches,
naked now
for the pleasure of men.
That is, until
the world is winter,
and her brown frame
is no longer appealing.
Cast aside until springtime,
when new buds bloom
and men, for all their
fickle taste, decide
she's beautiful again.