Poem on the cusp of a new year

Poem on the cusp of the new year

What would it feel like

to zero in on the scary feelings,

the ones I tell my son are okay to have because they’re a part of life–

the sadness, worry,

fear, disappointment,

anger, rage,

embarrassment, shame?

When I have them, my shoulders brace and harden,

concave my chest,

hollowing it out to a fragile vessel,

a bowl made of porcelain

designed to keep those feelings out.

I strain to make things a particular way,

my body stuck with feelings my mind says are unsafe to have.

What would it feel like

to let go of thought

and lean into those feelings,

feel them in my body,

feel them burn themselves up?

to fill with the ash of that fire,

fill with those embers until they turn milky grey and papery thin?

I want to let go of the fight.

I want to drag all the things that taunt and terrify,

that badger and belittle,

and throw them into a mounting pile

 in the middle of fallow field

under a dark night sky,

strike a match and set it ablaze.

A bonfire,

a solstice,

a mark of the returning sun.

I want it to burn and burn,

to climb, crackle and spit,

pour smoke into the native trees.

I want to stand by the heat of it

feel it cook my skin,

feel the flickers of yellow and orange,

smell the dead leaves,

the acrid sting of something chemical,

intoxicating.

I want to be primal and raw,

howl with the roar of the flames,

howl and laugh,

dance and circle,

calling out words and sounds,

speaking in tongues,

emptying out,

unaware, unconcerned, unencumbered

by clothes, thoughts, skin, desire, expectation.

I want time to pass in a slippery way,

shedding its ghostly skin like a snake

so I wake

to the weak light of morning

illuminating a great circle of

cool, black earth.

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