by Petite Careme


I’ve been reflecting on the past year and I wrote the poem which follows . The art which accompanies the literature was done by Danielle Boodoo- Fortune. Together they represent the range of my emotional experience from 2011. It was a mixture of deep grief and sporadic triumphs. There was never a time in my life when I was so beaten by my own choices and yet I do not regret those choices. I have no resolutions for the new year. I learned to not take myself too seriously. Actually living is more important than contemplating life.  I observe the spaces and people around me. I keep a collection of images and a book of dreams.

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Once Upon A December

when the rainy season  entered its Sabbath,

the last pages of the calendar fell

like leaves from the tree of the withered year

into a compost of experiences and observations

to prepare for new life to spring from its decease.

Once Upon A December

 the melancholic months apologized

for the slow but inexorable pace to this conclusion.

The days remaining felt obliged to accept

the sorry verses written in journals

that documented more losses than victories.

Once Upon A December

the world woke up from the dream of resolutions,

made before the altar of the two- faced Janus,

who turned every presumption into a penitent assumption

and into the same breath fitted blessings and curses

upon a girl lying in the deep sleep of transformation.

Once Upon a December

an old woman crumbled under the weight of her promises.

She looked back at the fulfillments and she gripped the failures.

When christened as the New Year she move along brightly and unknowing,

until time with its three manifestations: past, present and future,

whitened her hair and weakened her limbs.

Once Upon a December

I looked out across time at myself re-birthed in new areas of awareness

and I looked backed at myself dying to the old ideas of individuation.

My lips smiled as the tears came down, as the last rain of the season came down

and the body dishabituated itself from the drudgery of the year

which had created this strange life and placed it before me.

artwork by Danielle Boodoo- Fortune