To the New Year: These Are Not Resolutions

I will not burden you

With the weight of expectations,

Try to mold you into what you may not become,

Or give you a name you may outgrow.

Instead, my new-born year,

I will whisper to you my hopes

And not call them resolutions.

I hope that when I sit my sadness on a windowsill

And cry or rage or sink into silence

That I will then find joy in a blue Jay

Or the apricot light of dawn.

I hope to walk my dogs in parks

And watch sparrows flit

From tree-top to lamp post.

I hope to hear the silence of snow

And stay thankful for the stars.

I hope to write more poetry,

And write it with good pens, too.

I hope my mind and heart collaborate

To find the words just right for each feeling

Each time there is a burning need

To put good pens to paper.

I hope to witness - and give and receive -

Great acts of love

I hope when there is turmoil and terror

We all still find our reasons - our voices -

To sing.

I hope to face new beginnings with laughter,

Fight indignities with charm,

Ease sorrows with gentleness.

I hope on days when I feel I am not enough

Of one thing and another

That I still recognize where bounty lives

And where my fullness lies.

I hope to go on living as I do,

Day to day, month to month,

Until a new year is born.

So, sweet new-born year,

I will sing you lullabies

And you will know my voice

And hold my hopes

That I do not call resolutions.

c. 2022 by Rebecca Salomonsson

Peace Like A

Lifting Fog

I Should Not Know

Your Name:

For Nex

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