Season of New Hope

Morning light
slips past the curtains
to touch my cheek.
Eyes open.
Too soon, I say,
but the clock say it’s late.

Not too late to do
what today brings,
but I’d rather hide
deep in warm blankets,
skip today, start fresh tomorrow
or the day after that.

My body says I need it,
need a respite from pain and exhaustion,
words and silences,
television and  Christmas music
repeated perpetually,
but I will not rest today or tomorrow.

Why are voices I love so silent?
Where is the laughter,
the smile that lights up the tree?

 

 

 
This is the year we need magic.
We need a Season of Peace, of New Hope,
not war or Wall Street, no, not now.

We need a little Christmas.

And all I want is a long winter’s nap.


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