New Year Resolution
Tonight as the snow articulates silence
I wait to speak to you of sadness because
I have resolved to wait to speak to you
of everything. The time of year. The party
where you aren't allowed to slip me
out of my coat and throw it on the bed.
The bed you aren't allowed to throw me on.
The body. My body you aren't allowed
to bite until blood falls onto the white ground
like a map to a territory ruled by someone else
on paper. This time of year is always about paper.
Invitations. Christmas cards. Those party favors
that pop their joy across some other room at midnight
where someone who rules you on paper
will kiss you for show, for sport, for drunkenness
as I wait for my tongue to be called upon
the way a chorus waits to find its bridge.
The way the bridge I crossed the afternoon
my lips took their turn--we forgot about the rulers,
their papers--waits to clear of ice. The way the birds
you mentioned when you asked if I knew about birds
wait to whisper the date in my ear. To come.
To be ready.
this new year.
The old loves, pale with time
I have worn like soft gloves
And felt their aching tease from within.
Now I want to do away with memories
And just usher the new year in.
The speed at which I ran my life
is weak now.
Now I wish to stand on the sidelines.
Offer water to others who are in the race.
I want my feet to
slow their pace.
I want to give back
what I've taken -
everything except the pain.
I want to pass on the smiles,
hide the awful stains.
I want to feel the warmth of my company
in the sweet zephyrs of solitude.
I want the lightness of 'not clinging'
The joy of having open, empty palms.
And a mind beautifully calm.
Take my desires to the gallows this new year - set them free
And let me feel pure emptiness
The only way to be...
And when this year ends,
I'll be lighter still
because of all the things I gave up
to let the new year in.
This new year, do not ask me of my resolutions.
Let the scattered yarn of life be rolled into a solid ball
and that be my only resolve.
To gaze upward; stare
at ever shifting sky;
keep my head in clouds
as they fly across
each facet of the moon.
To never neglect nuances
of various seasons:
first snowdrop to
don its ivory bell;
song sparrow's sweet trill
in morning's twilight;
sun's shimmer on summer sand;
sea's warm, salty embrace;
a yellow leaf that lands blithely,
ragged calligraphy of cormorants
across autumn's dome;
solitary flake silently drifting
in brittle air of a frigid night;
frolic of flames in hearth.
These matters I will regard.
To exist in the twinkling of time;
cease memory's constant churning;
abandon tomorrow's anxious hours;
be mindful each minute
of every golden hour.