Year's End

It's been a year, or almost that,

and all the things we've done or seen
are waiting in the shadows 'til a random
conversation, dream, or memory
invites them back to center stage.
We count by months and days, and turn the pages
of our calendars remorselessly, the past
now past, let's keep it there unless we have
good reason to return. But that is when
we look ahead, make plans, anticipate the
great and glorious Not Yet Lived. When
counting memories, however, dates are
quite diminished in the scope of things unless
we argue that it had to be in spring, because
the incident occurred while sitting at a
baseball game, You're right, of course. It
was the spring. We use a different measurement,
how many tears were shed, or prayers prayed,
How many emails sent to sort a problem out,
important phone calls made to people that we love
or will not ever meet. The kisses, adding up,
embraces filling to the brim the bank
account that houses our emotions.
How many questions have been answered.
How many questions now remain to start the new year off.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014