after the thaw

Photo by Sonny Sixteen on Pexels

in the last few weeks of hibernation, 
the brain starts to wake up again — 
the body still cold and idle, 
but those neurons can see ahead, 
they start to fire in anticipation 
of what might happen, 
of opportunities 
that come after the thaw…
help me to do what others won’t — 
I’ll need courage to do the opposite thing, 
to go against established conventions…
show me that I can succeed 
as myself 
and not cave to the system’s intentions…
it hurts to be original, 
there’s pain in what’s unique, 
in a place where creativity goes to die, 
what’s at stake is a person’s soul…
as humans we are born so very weak, 
but the strength comes from separation, 
of going off to find oneself, 
to confront the truth that waits for us 
in isolation…
the squirrel was unearthed 
in its winter den, body all intact, 
the archaeology of preparedness 
means even the planners can meet their ends…
nuts cached, and food reserves fossilized all 
around it—it wasn’t stupidity that froze 
the clever creature, it was low temperatures, 
the lowest ever seen

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Garbage Notes:

I wrote this one about a year ago, roughly around the end of winter as temperatures were starting to feel warmer, and we could all feel the reprieve of spring around the corner.

The first line: in the last few weeks of hibernation, the brain starts to wake up again—I feel particularly connected to this opening line because I have one of those brains that struggles with shifts in seasons. Actually I struggle with shifts in anything.

Whether it’s getting up in the morning, or winding down at night. Going from lunch, back to work. Or from the weekend to the work week. These transitions are especially hard for me. I don’t know why. It’s just how my neurons are wired—they liked sustained harmony, I guess. Disruptions in the flow of life usually feel stressful to me.

Anyway, as I re-read this poem, the theme that stands out is that with each shift in life there is this feeling that new challenges and new opportunities are ahead. And for a person to take advantage of those updates in scenery, you have to be nimble—you have to be open to doing difficult things, while still remaining true to your identity and your message.

The line that talks about separation and isolation refers to the notion that we sometimes have to tackle things on our own in order to achieve the lessons we need to learn. You might make mistakes, but at least you can say you tried to do something challenging all by yourself.

And finally, the imagery of the squirrel, no longer living, being unearthed after the thaw—well, this is a sad thing. Of course, no one wants to be the creature who didn’t survive the winter. But the point is that its den was still filled with food reserves. This squirrel didn’t die because it was stupid.

Sometimes it’s not for lack of preparing that we meet our end. We could try our best and still fail. So don’t be too hard on yourself if something outside of you is the reason you don’t succeed. If you did your best and stayed true to yourself, then nature will remember you.

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Franco Amati 2024

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