The poem below describes the holiday flurry and the period of celebration between Christmas and the ending of the year. During this cheer and optimism, the poet finds herself ignoring the mourning sentiment of the year that passed. In the brightness of the lights, she puts aside the misfortunes of the year gone by, attempting to seize the optimism with hope for all that is yet to come; she begins the ending by holding on to hope.
Save the date,
celebration season is here
to wish away the worries and
everything I rebuke and hate,
to lose myself to the lilt of carols
and forget the screaming silence,
the ticking tease of every deadline
and instead, to see reality fade
into comfortable pallor.
Joy sublime fills the air
as do the scents of festive recipes come alive;
morbid mourning of the year gone by,
for all the losses buried under still fresh clay,
willed to oblivion by a well-rehearsed ritual
to give thanks and pray.
The lights go up,
seemingly cheery faces
drink from life’s lacklustre cup
telling ourselves, “its just a matter of time”
while that moment, to many historic periods,
does its origin traces.
Optimism in abundance flows
like the good-natured gifting
these present days bring forth;
ignoring the inconvenient wisdom
that the end of the calendar year
cannot summon the curtain call
on all our woes.
Deluded by delight
I await respite,
not realizing that my many misfortunes
and several sorrows
will not seize to follow
as long as I am the treasure trove of my troubles
but for now, I distract myself
with the tinsel and the kaleidoscopic baubles.
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