Emotionally digesting holiday mayhem
stuff stuffed down
people so sad, and angry.
Angry to be so sad,
watching their lives seep down
some irrevocable hole.
It was supposed to be better.
Supposing life face drowning in
sweet, lush flowers, flopping back
to watch movies in the clouds.
Angels and wizards and clowns
smile simply, wave past.
Grown up at last,
equipped with legitimating ID
to enter the grown-up places
— where is the promise?
“When you get older you will understand.”
No reward of freedom for following the rules;
after endless stringent days in schools,
no wisdom to replace those wasted years.
Fragmented by fear and aggravation,
ambition and futility,
unable to command fluidity into
structured bones, or the wage
to repay required loans.
Conversation always turns to want,
to depression of what was meant to be.
The burden, not a gift,
weight of a world awaiting revelation.
Wasn’t it enough, the sky snow bright
one Winter night
out in a world alive in celebration?
Breathing clear crystal cold,
warmed by deep blood flow
under our skin.
one tiny flame flickering in the wind without substance or purpose. Such freedom is bliss.