Fallen Leaves
Today, when I went for my morning walk with my dog and saw these fallen leaves lie scattered on the ground, and observed an intense wind blowing them around, I was reminded of many things.
As the leaves fell in quiet waves, I was reminded of the layers that make up the world we live in — the ones we see, the ones we feel, and the ones we may forget if we are not careful because they are buried inside. Democracy, like these leaves, is not just something we can observe from afar; it’s something we create, piece by piece, with every step, every vote, and with every voice lifted.
Democracy is an act, not a state. A verb, not a noun. Democracy isn’t just a destination we reach; it’s a movement, a pulse, an action we must choose again and again. An ongoing effort, not a fixed place we arrive at and then abandon.
Much like the ground blanketed in leaves, our memories of collective struggles, hopes, and losses settle layer upon layer, shaping the ground we stand on. But over time, just as leaves wither and blend back into the soil, memories of these struggles risk fading into the background. It is easy to forget how each of these memories once held their own vivid color, how each leaf of our past fights and freedoms once danced brightly in the sun.
When we forget our past fights and struggles, we risk letting them all decay into something unrecognizable, something that no longer carries the life it once did. But when we remember — when we stay engaged and aware, we renew our commitment to the shared ground beneath us.
Each time we participate, each time we speak up, and each time we vote, it is as if we are picking up one of these leaves, holding it to the light, and acknowledging its place in the larger whole.
Let us remember that democracy is not something that simply is. It is something we must do, nurture, and protect. It is as fragile and precious as the memory of each fallen leaf, and it relies on us to keep it alive, to hold it close, to pass it on.
In doing so, we honor the past while creating the future, keeping the ground beneath us rich and strong for those who will walk it next.
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PS: I had originally shared this on Facebook. And I felt that these thoughts are solid enough to find a permanent place here on Medium. Also, I have my doubts that Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta algorithm will bury my post on Facebook.
