A poem for the new year
I read something lately that seems appropriate for ending this year—a winter sketch by Summer Brennan in which she describes cleaning a pomegranate every morning. Read it and then come back. I’ll wait!
Wasn’t that lovely? It has always amused me that people complain about having to clean a pomegranate. It’s too fussy, takes too long, they get frustrated, etc. But that’s the point. The time it takes to deconstruct a mythic pomegranate is a meditation in itself. A few moments in which you are not required to do or be anything else. It’s just you and your thoughts and the anticipation of eating the delicious seeds of this ruby-red fruit.
I think of 2023 as the year I cleaned the fruit and 2024 as the year I eat those seeds so joyfully, red juice running down my arms and all. I hope that you too are looking forward to the possibilities that a fresh start brings!
Lastly, I have spent the last two weeks in a mad dash to finish a poetry manuscript. The open call closes on December 31 and I only came across the notice three weeks ago. I sent it off yesterday and it seems fitting to share one of those poems with you.
All the best for 2024, friends! adxo
In case no one has told you
congratulations on who you are becoming.
I see you sloughing off that old skin, chipping
away at defenses that kept your elbow bent,
that forced your voice into false registers,
some say you seem happier, but what you are
is truer, closer to the child you once were,
far more beautiful than I imagined even,
making me feel sorry for those who just met
you, who will never know how far your heart
has travelled, how much you toiled to rekindle
the star of light in your eyes with a flame that
will never burn out, so keep going, love,
don’t stop, the world needs more of you.