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on days like this

December 31, 2019

it hangs in the air,
doesn’t it?
it drifts idly by
and we can see through it
but we can’t see around it

it connects us,
doesn’t it?
it brings us together
even as we are not together,
each privately picking
and tasting
these grapes of sorrow

each clutching at
this grief,
blindsided again –
did we think we would be
better prepared?

ends and beginnings
fold into each other
even on days like this
even on days like this
even on days like this

 

 

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