S5 E16: Letting Go – A Reflection on Sara Teasdale’s Poem, “Leaves” “One by one my leaves fall. As the wind wills I let them go.” So begins Sara Teasdale’s quietly powerful poem Leaves. With just two lines, she opens a meditation on release — not as an act of despair, but as an act of grace. Teasdale often wrote at the edges of feeling, where the heart meets the natural world. In Leaves, she surrenders to change — not passively, but with the wisdom of someone who has lived through many seasons. Each falling leaf becomes a metaphor for what we are asked to release in life: expectations, grief, youth, even love. And yet, there is no bitterness in her words. Only stillness. Only wind. This poem reminds me that letting go doesn’t always need to be loud. There is a quiet strength in yielding, a power in choosing not to hold too tightly. In my own life, I have found this kind of gentle release in moments of transition — the closing of a chapter, the farewell to a place or person, the shift from one season of being to the next. Teasdale captures that threshold with exquisite simplicity. Leaves by Sarah Teasdale One by one, like leaves from a tree, All my faiths have forsaken me; But the stars above my head Burn in white and delicate red, And beneath my feet the earth Brings the sturdy grass to birth. I who was content to be But a silken-singing tree, But a rustle of delight In the wistful heart of night I have lost the leaves that knew Touch of rain and weight of dew. Blinded by a leafy crown I looked neither up nor down But the little leaves that die Have left me room to see the sky; Now for the first time I know Stars above and earth below How Sara Teasdale Speaks to Our World Today Though Sara Teasdale wrote in the early 20th century, her poetry carries an intimacy that feels strikingly relevant to our 21st-century lives. In an age of rapid change, digital noise, and constant performance, her voice is a balm — spare, honest, and deeply human. My Takeaway Leaves, in particular, mirrors the quiet struggles of letting go — of identities, relationships, dreams, or expectations. While the world often celebrates noise, speed, and achievement, Teasdale reminds us of the sacredness of stillness, the dignity of sorrow, and the strength it takes to soften. Her work did not shy away from isolation, longing, or existential reflection. Those same emotions feel even more present today, in the midst of uncertainty, climate anxiety, and personal reinvention. In her words, we find a mirror for our contradictions: desire and solitude, hope and melancholy, beauty and transience. Perhaps that is why she still feels so alive to us now. Teasdale gives us permission to linger — to feel deeply, to let things go at our own pace. In her gentleness, there is a kind of rebellion. And in her vulnerability, a timeless strength. For me, this poem is an invitation to trust the seasons of our lives. We cannot stop the leaves from falling, but we can choose how we let them go. To release what no longer serves us is not weakness — it is wisdom. And how fitting to reflect on this now, in September — the month when the air sharpens, the light softens, and the trees begin their quiet surrender. September has always been my favourite month, a time when endings and beginnings weave together. In Teasdale’s words, I hear not only farewell, but also the promise of renewal. So today, I invite you to pause with her poem. Let it stir your own memories, your own moments of soft surrender. Perhaps you, too, are releasing something right now. If so, may the wind be kind. Thank you for joining me in Rebecca’s Reading Room. Rebecca Photography & Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound Music by Ström “Vila” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/Z...
