I do not know what you endured
To bring a child into this life;
I’m thankful that you wanted me
And that you still are husband and wife,
For far too many come to strife
And cannot find their melody.
I have been dealt a generous hand,
Yet I am still unable to see
What path to walk that I can stand;
But as to this, there is no blame:
You gave me love and life and land,
I hope someday I’ll do the same.
I try to guess, yet I am sure
I do not know what you endured.
(Merry Christmas Mom and Dad, this is a Rumfishian sonnet just for you.)
You draw me in
as a moth to flame
I cannot hold back
the lonely nights
they all spill over
to a moment of warmth
and like a tide
I wash over you
threatening to flood your shores
to drown your reason
because you decided
to breach the dam wall
to see for yourself
what lies in the heart
of a quiet man.
My heart is as old as the season we enter:
Lonesome and cold and bleak as December.
I kindle up flames to struggle for warmth
In the face of unending blizzards and storms.
I don’t want to be old anymore, that’s the thing,
But it’s what I had wanted ever since spring.
Now I’m not even there yet and I can’t stand the way
My body slows down and my feelings decay.
But I didn’t grow up either, it’s all paradox:
I can’t leave my old room and my mountain of socks.
I think about death but get crushes like a boy
As I disappear slowly, like sadness and joy.
I used to think I was smart, so why can’t I remember
Which door leads away from this endless December?