Day 4 of my 100 Days of Poetry series is about those quiet loops of thought, the small moments where we forget ourselves, forget our worth, or forget who we can lean on. Sometimes the fall we’re waiting for never comes, and yet the anticipation itself shapes us. This poem is an attempt to capture that suspended space between expectation and reality.
Profound Fall
Sometimes my brain
likes to play
these little games
Sometimes I forget
that I’m worth
anything at all.
Sometimes I forget
exactly who and when
I can call
I’m counting on the fall,
the metaphorical one
that has yet to come.
Sometimes I forget
that I was even
waiting for it.
It seems this year
I turned 34,
my feet have yet
to leave the ground.
Isn’t that profound?
Poet’s note
This poem was written as a reflection on self-forgetfulness and quiet anticipation. The “fall” is intentionally open-ended, representing both what we expect from life and what we wait for internally. Writing it was about noticing those small pauses, those moments of doubt, and giving them space on the page without judgment. It’s about the tension between inertia and hope, between standing still and yearning for change.
“Profound Fall” invites readers to sit with the internal rhythm of thought and reflection. It asks us to notice where we are grounded, where we hesitate, and how waiting can be as significant as action. Sometimes the profound comes not from movement, but from awareness, from pausing long enough to see where our mind and body meet.
Whisper to the void it might whisper back