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  • Writer's pictureAhsan Jamil

Falling Leaf

It’s not easy to imbibe, grow, and flourish. I do all that. That’s when you grow on me and at that stage, I become a tree. You and I enjoyed the spring and summer together, we had joy, we had fun, we had seasons and the sun.  Autumn and winter are approaching. Now it’s time for you to fall, says the tree to the leaf.

I abstract chloroform for you, blistering myself in the process. I face scorching heat to provide you with shade. I help you grow seeds and fruits. I decorate your barren trunk and branches. I resist the wind, rain, storm and heat. I give sound to your silence. I cover and protect you. Well! You begin to ignore me when I need you the most. When I grow weak, lose my colors, and when my life is in danger. Yet I will fall since obeying you is my virtue but remember, I love you and I am not a quitter.

I don’t give up. I am the leaf. You will throw me on the ground and I will become the fertilizer that makes you stronger. Your branches are my playground. My home. My love. I know I am a leaf that got to grow on a plant. Doesn’t matter how bad you treat me or how many times I fall, I will keep coming back.

Jon Bon Jovi

“How can I shed you by choice? Tell me my sweetheart!” sighs the trunk. You are an eternal part of me and I am incomplete without you. Only you decorate me and add beauty to my existence. You are the source of my chloroform, I breathe through you. You are my eyes and my ears. You are my lifeline. I become mere wood when you are gone.

It’s the weather that departs us and makes me shed. I work hard to regrow you and witness your reincarnation. I will give a new birth. I preserve meristematic tissue for your new life. As soon as the weather becomes warmer, along with the availability of light, nutrients and water, I tirelessly begin to grow you back. What do you know how much I suffer without you? I go fasting, feel cold, face rains, snow and malnutrition. 

Only the living can write the songs of separation. The dead cannot imagine the agony of uncoupling. Only the living one faces the anguish of separation. The trauma of detachment goes to bones. The torture of severance throws one in the desert of abandonment. I miss you. We will meet again. 

I know nothing returns from the valley of death. If it does it never comes in the same shape. I would like them to enjoy the way they love each other. 

I will not interfere in their argument. I don’t intend to make their life miserable, like humans did with information, knowledge and the so called enlightenment. Living unconsciously like most of the botanical and zoological life may be a blessing in itself. Our conscious life gave nothing to this earth but pollution and plundering. What did we get from knowledge is also arguable? 







Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer 



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