January Burns
The heavy weight of resolutions
The last sips of mulled wine
splinter into darkness down my throat
/I choke as I always do/
The oppression of January
and its unpalatably sweet promise
hack away at my torso
/a heavy lump when limboed in plank mode/
My worn-out body digs into the cold
in obeisance to the gravity of linoleum
as I unresolve every partial poem
of its knowing where the road leads
I am every dreamer
who grows hope like an untended garden
when so much of what we reap is perishable
I have never had the cocoon of a waiting room
There’s no riot of colour waiting to explode
I am a silkworm, not a butterfly
and the future is a patchy tapestry
I needle with dim eyes
I have the sky
but I’m rooted to dark leaves
and when years dangle like hung numbers
I ask myself
Will I be the worth of broken promises to self
/Yesterday, today and tomorrow/?
Author’s Note: I don’t believe in resolutions. I don’t believe in starting the year on a note that you want to undo the damages done last year. I don’t believe you can or should bury the old year with a “New year, new me”. But I do believe in keeping promises to self and that need not be a January wake-up call.
What is your take on new year's resolutions? I’d love to know.
Thank you for reading, lovely readers!
