This Year’s Death

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The year’s death is approaching
and my soul is in migration.

The breath of frost lingers
longer with each passing winter.

I sit looking out at the night,
coming down like calendar
pages falling to the floor.

The moon looks like a clock.
The wind whispers “tick tock”

The ghosts of 2015 stumble around in my backyard.

Unfulfilled dreams appear like
oracles at my front door.

I measure my loses.
I count my gains.
I write my life in blue.

Praying for the luminous dawn
of fresh beginning.

Hope diamonds the sky.
I long to dance with starlight
in a tango I’ve never danced

Hipswaying my way across
the galaxy.

Peeling off the last twelve months
like sheets.

The flakes of auld lang syne.
no longer glazing my bowl.

The skeletons of the past
under my feet.

Knowing biography is not fate.
There’s still time for revisions.

My heart quicken by the sun.
My soul renewed.

Bathe in the bright light
of a new year

-Tosha Michelle

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32 thoughts on “This Year’s Death

  1. “Unfulfilled dreams appear like
    oracles at my front door.”
    How poignant! Part of the melancholy the envelopes me on New Years Eve is that the dreams and goals that I had set were rarely or partially realized and I had let another year slip away. You’ve captured that so exquisitely, Tosha.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. jacobemet

    Surely I’ve not been away as long as it feels, but the rustling of your river seems to be settling. It feels like you have two hands full and trying to decide which to empty and which to cling to. My wish is for wisdom to whisper her words clearly for you.

    Liked by 1 person

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