Given the fact that this year was one marked by rank cynicism and that alienation has become a staple of our modern society, I write this poem, originally a submission for an epistolary poetry contest. In a letter form, I create this recent work and, I think, it makes sense given the mood of the times.
The month has arrived with cold receipts of shivers and chills,
Jesus and Herod pairing their ancient oppositions in Nativities,
with the season’s evil being heat waves and forest fires.
What’s left to say?
than to concede that the merry making and wine tasting is to be had, with lumbering ghosts of alienation,
in pastel colored apartment rooms,
with cold dishes facing electrical heaters,
waiting to be gulped for the sake of season’s greetings.
Ebenezer and The Grinch,
how they seem like more than personifications of people, on dial tones and party lists of former years.
Missing family portraits and ‘Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year’ at dot midnight,
the only signs of sanity,
from last year and the year before and prior to that,
now that we are empty nesters.
It’s just the cat and I,
her torch lit eyes and the last leaf of the birds’ feathers,
golden hours for napping and a short story of melancholy and compassion, completed each day for the next outpouring of solitaire minutes,
of solitary wanderings and riverside themes.
Dear John Doe,
what’s good anymore than sleeping with a fully lit Christmas tree till mid January
and feeling empathy cave and elapse with the last months
and hardly a neighbour to greet,
as closed doors slam amity’s nimble hands.
But I say this anyway,
well in advance,
may you reply soon and accrue
sweet collections for a happy new year.