A Poem For 2021
Every year, I write an end-of-the-year poem. I hope 2021 was good to you. At the very least, I hope it wasn't all bad. And I hope you have grown and laughed and loved and cried and been as ferociously you as is humanly possible. Happy New Year, everyone.
2021
this year has made me feel
as if I’ve aged a decade
the older I grow the deeper I empathize
now I know why
they say oak trees grow stronger with time
we flipped the page to 2022 without blinking
I think I know more than I did last year
but I still hold fear close to my heart
I wonder how noticeable my scars are
how well I have hidden my fissures
this year felt like being alone in a room full of people
who can't understand you and won't
but no one needs constant sympathy
we are ballerinas in our own music boxes
trying to dance the madness away
smiling blandly
spinning sadly
laughing to dull our aches
2021 was a year I swallowed news by the fistful
so much of it meaningless
Kanye west, unreliable press
blue light pollution, and chronic stress
the presidents losing his mind
and half the nation denies it
children shoot children
and no one knows why
a catastrophe of homelessness
rising rent
a hot job market
a land of abundance for the 1%
August 30th
suicide bombers
heartbreak and vengeance
we learned everything feels personal
and nothing is controlled
ships float off the coast for months
gas prices soar
and laugh lines make tiny streams in my cheeks
I'm afraid to be lonely but need room to think
a poem is the best way I know to be honest
2021 was a soft thaw from my numbness
I scooped out my heart and gave it away
now it beats even harder
loves stronger and longer
there is no room for shame today or tomorrow
2021 began with gunfire and capital rage
went out with a guttural, bubbling bang
I am tired in my soul
but I know the best way through pain is motion
so I’ll plant my roots a bit deeper
stand up a bit straighter
say I love you now
instead of waiting ‘til later
2021 was a loaded shot gun
a pearl of wisdom
the year we went missing
woke up in the sun
beneath a sprawling oak tree
we are not quite as broken as all of us seem
P.S. Find my podcast/audio blog/whatever you want to call it on Spotify, buy my book, I Like It Cuz It's Pink, or follow me on Instagram. Happy New Year!
xoxo
Sarah Rose