winter solstice poetry

holy. just holy. not even spiritual or ritualized. well, maybe ritualized, in the way you toast yourself while drinking alone.

round and round, every day, year, lifetime; we wonder, forget, fall and catch ourselves (and each other). the pain hurts like pain has never hurt before. our own minds and bodies confuse each other (and ourselves). the new thing changing our entire lifetime with one breath. and again, but different this time, we swear.

rolling through the moods: embarrassed, grieving, shocked, bored, joyful.

losing, finding, never knowing, only thinking and being 'sure of ourselves'. the fallacy of memory, of pride, of infatuation and obsession. knowing we will 'never forget this'.

again and again. when we think we're done, we laugh at the end. and i don't mean at the end we laugh.

who's to say this isn't the best? not i. it is for i to forget again.