So This Is The New Year, A 3 Year

My daughter posted a New Year’s Instagram reel of photos, with Death Cab for Cutie’s song “The New Year” as the background. Watching the 2022 retrospective filled me with melancholy, especially with the lyric: “This is the New Year. I don’t feel any different.”

I’m going into a “Three Year” numerically, a year when I will be happiest and most fulfilled when I’m creatively doing things. With that in mind, my melancholy turned into resolve, and I wrote this haiku:

This is the New Year:

A time I can choose to act,
be, and feel diff’rent.

The Emergence Of The Grown, Cocooned Youth: Revolutionary IMprov Poem

The young,
optimistic s/he,
running,
happy,
care free,
observing,
enjoying,
creative,

Withdrew.

From fear,
through a desire
for self-preservation,
and wrapped itself
deep within
the shell
that grew
and matured
and thrived

and took the blows
and the arrows
and the doubts
and the pain.

But one day
the cocooned,
energized,
insightful,
observant,
joyful
protected being,
who had grown
and been nurtured
and cherished,
realized it was time.

Time to emerge.
Time to reveal.
Time to risk.
Time to take
its rightful place
as owner
and operator
and thinker
of its soul
and mind
and destiny.

It was scary,
at first,
to show itself.
To say “Here I am,
again,
for the first time.”

But it felt the warmth of the sun
on its face.
The cool breeze blowing through its hair.
The moist mist of early morning
fog lifting.
The passion
and compassion
of love.

And it knew,
having been sheltered
and protected
and nurtured
and walled
for so long,

that free,
and fearless
and embracing
and empowered
and enjoying
and joyful
was where it belonged.

Here.
Now.
Being.