I want to go to you and hold you. Nothing has prepared you for this: I can tell by the sound of fear in your voice. Nothing has prepared you, yet slowly, year by year, your choices and actions may have led you to this moment. The cruelty of this particular hindsight may be baring its face to you, but you will never share that insight. Better to stay silent and, not deny, but harden to the facts of it.
Silent observer, I have seen this unfold, never knowing if my repeated giving up is a useful way of surrender. I soften into the folds of this now; glad that giving up’s relation has surfaced yet again as my life’s multi layered attempts to let go. The generational gap of our choices, mirrored by these tangible concepts, make the sorrow I feel for you more bearable; yet it had to come to this.
No regrets from those hidden patterns that often come upon us unawares. I pre-empt my freedom now from your letting go, whenever that may be.
Going back to where things began to go wrong, where a living death began – a compacted and heavy burden, invited, entertained, nourished and later shunned.
Two days of this old year left, 2008, that’s the year that was. Don’t ask for much. Don’t ask you don’t get. Maybe that’s what I did wrong. What a wasteland, yet full of surprises. Looking for the joy in the small things. What hellish vacuum did I fill? Leave me out of the next one. Somewhere along the way I begged for change. I stayed close to the line, I did not even hope. Change and a new shift in time, here’s to the new year, 2009, whatever you will bring . . .
