Go now, strange year

(

With Tennyson I whisper,
“The year is going, let him go.”

It is not the refrain of cartoon icy queens.

Instead my recitation declaration, 
“The year is going, let him go”
is my release 
of the desire to return to how things used to be.
And my thanksgiving 
for the good (and even the hard) 
now taking up residence in empty spaces.

There are still some empty spaces.

But I repeat, 
“The year is going, let him go.”

If I had a word of the year
for tomorrow and the many days after
my word would likely be:
wait.

If I had a prayer for the year,
I would say, please: friends, home, laughter, peace.
And as I sort through my collection 
of pictures, words, reflections, 
and memories from the last twelve months
I remember to say: thank You

“The year is going…”
Goodbye. Go now, strange year.
I couldn’t hold you in my grasp
Even if I tried.

Photo by Metin Ozer on Unsplash

Please go read Tennyson’s beautiful poem, “Ring out, wild bells”