With Holidays

looking through the lens of celebration
anticipation strikes hard
a table is decorated
expectations infuriated
the time away is here
time to reap
time to slow
time is running out

it’s on the wallpaper
that distant gasping lullaby from a certain time you always remember

in comes a gentle cleansing breath

a rumble in the street
branches buckling beneath my feet
I march the same path I once did
callously cold
begging to believe I was older than I am now

I am older now

I once saw these trees as a minefield,
a filthy graveyard of the person I neglected
now it’s a weighted blanket of discovery
and the absolution of my pain

letting go is the future that I’ll gain