The Old Year Runs Away From Me: Joyce Rupp

31 December 2019 | General Interest

A reflection for the new year

the old year runs away from me.
I hang onto her sleeve
but she shakes me loose.
where does the old year go
when the new year comes?

she slips away into memories,
falls into the crevices of wishes
and ought-to-have-dones.
she waits no longer upon promises,
turns her back on might-have-been.

the elves of the old year step in,
pack up the struggles, store the joys,
tuck them away in the bulging box
spreading out in the psyche’s floor.

it's up to the new year now.
I bring a lot to her domain:
expectations, dreams, hopes,
and I place them all before
her strong, abundant door.

I walk into her untamed territory,
with a meek apprehension
and a vast sense of mystery,
assured by the welcome I receive,

anxious about what is waiting
behind the drawn window shade,
curious about what I will discover
in the hidden folds of her new days.

     - Joyce Rupp

 

Source: 'Out of the Ordinary: Prayers, Poems, and Reflections for Every Season'