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‘22/04/22 11:52am’ is a written representation of my mind attempting to make peace, whilst still fighting with the inevitable nature of letting go of things in life. The poem was written on the date and time stated as per the title, doing this allows me to remember exactly how I felt at that point in time of my life which has no specific intimate meaning to anyone other than myself and the poem. In this way, the poem is also a documentation of my personal journey through life and the experiences that shape me along the way. As seen through references to the beach and the birds which all represent freedom, I used my natural surroundings to aid my reflective practice. I had gone away on my own to my beach house in Mornington for a few days to clear my head and this poem was a large part of my healing and acknowledgement. It discusses the importance of being in the moment because you never know when a constant in life may not be a constant anymore, that we shouldn’t get too comfortable with things and people we love. However, as the final line states, instead of being sad that we must let go, we should instead focus on the joy and how lucky we truly are to even have had the opportunity to have an experience or know a person that we feel so much grief and sadness about letting go of.  





As I grow older,

I am learning to savour each moment,

That life cannot be so calculated and planned,

That that time might be your last and you can’t make another,

You don’t get that choice,

You don’t always get to imprint a memory so intentionally because you know that’s all you’ve got for the rest of this life,

I’m learning to savour the way the light comes through the kitchen window at Rye, 

That I get to sit on this step, 

Hear these birds that remind me of right here when I am not, 

It’s making me try to remember a little harder the way your face looked,

The way you felt,

The way the wind blows through the trees,

The way I breath so fully when I am here,

The way that nothing matters unless you want it to, and I want this to,

The way I imagine it would feel to fly,

The way the saltwater meets the sand, but they somehow always inevitably separate despite not being able to exist without one another, 

That’s how I am, 

I may intertwine with the memory but eventually I must separate from it,

Yet still I wouldn’t be me, today, without each granule, each second of every memory that I’ve had the privilege of marking into my mind,

The way the plants are so green in this light,

The way I feel so still,

The way I dream of you yet remind myself it’s not true in the exact same moment.

I wonder if the birds dream too of things they cannot have, like the warmth of a habitat before winter came and told them it was time to go.

Sometimes I forget, and I must remind myself that this is my life, and although I’m sad I can’t have more,

I’m grateful that I’ve had some.

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