That time of year
December 19, 2010 § 1 Comment
Christmas is the worst time of year for me, as it is for many people. Whether we’ve lost loved ones through bereavement, estrangement, addictions, conflict – events beyond our control – all the forced jollity, simplistic moralising, saccharine emotive sentiments – they’re a little too much to take.
As always, I plan on hiding away with books and music. So – a little Emily Dickinson, to lay it all out in her supremely elegant way.
After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical , go round –
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –
A Wooden way
A Quartz contentment, like a stone –
This is the Hour of Lead –
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –
First – Chill – the Stupor – then the letting go –
Solstice is easier to think about – and the waiting for Spring. For anyone else who struggles with this time of year – courage.
I’m counting down till the sun comes back. And, with thanks to James Wright, the knowledge that, with the end of winter, so comes the return of this ecstatic state.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break