I don't want a
bright and shiny New Year.
The days will only tarnish
the glow. Long, sleepless nights
scratching across my eyelids
will only scratch the surface.
The weeks when there is not enough time
in a day, let alone seven -
denting and dinging exposed surfaces.
Months of tear-stained washings
turn the surface black
when depression waves.
No, I don't want a
bright and shiny New Year.
Give me instead one that's merely
a chunk of unformed clay
that I can mold as months meander,
that I can season with happenstance
as Spring muds into Summer.
Give me surfaces to sculpt with emotion,
smooth and soothe with sandy moments.
Let me polish the memories to make them glow,
and see glories reflected there as leaves
and pages fly written and revised as necessary.
Let the year take its time to be formed
and lived. Give me a work in process
not something finished before it has begun.
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