Perhaps
each new year
is
a reincarnation of the last, a recycling of failed days
and disappointing moments.
Throw
the left-over frustrations,
the
kitchen-scrap
resentments, unwanted stinging weeds and discarded
bitter clippings of the old year
into the cosmic compost bin.
Wait, then, for gentle processes
of judgement-warmth,
grace-filled mould,
welcoming worms
and the good bacteria of forgiving decomposition,
to be made complete,
reducing unpleasant corruption
to timely dark humus.
Spread
it over the naked and freshly-dug year
with
a quiet prayer;trust in the divine unfolding
of seasons, sometimes painful,
always new,
and never quite expected.
Watch
with wonder and delight
as
hopeful shoots emerge to be nurtured, green, and full of life.
©
Ken Rookes
