January's Midnight Arrival


 

Fireworks told me

it was a new year.

 

I didn’t stay up to watch,

to welcome, to light sparklers

to pretend I had written resolutions.

 

From my bed I watched

flashes through the bedroom curtain,

heard explosions, and wondered

how much debris the sun would expose.

 

I did talk to Mother God, yes Mother God.

We’d spent a lot of time together the last

few months as I nursed battle wounds,

and collected new scars.

 

She never mentioned hell or asked me

to confess sins…She listened and held my hand

when the edge was as close as a footstep.

 

Through the smoke of all the matches

and mini explosions assaulting the night

in frantic wishes a year could really arrive

unmolested by the old, I heard Mother God

whisper, “Optimism has always been the garden

you’ve replanted when agony uprooted the roses.”

 

 ©Susie Clevenger 2025

 What's Going On? ~ Being a Good Creature


 

 

 

 

Comments

Sherry Blue Sky said…
Oh Susie, this is so you! I love the conversation with Mother God, and the truth and strength in those closing lines about optimism relanting the garden. Do you find, as I do, that it is getting more difficult to muster that old hopefulness? A truly wonderful poem.
Truedessa said…
Optimism has always been the garden
you’ve replanted when agony uprooted the roses.”

That is a powerful bit of truth. It seems resilience is the secret to survival.
Fireblossom said…
She sounds like a Goddess worth listening to indeed. Here, the nearby firing of someone's automatic weapon convinced me to stay away from windows. Yeah, that's how they celebrate where I live. Whee.
Jae Rose said…
What a beautiful poem - a prayer - I am glad Mother God listened - best wishes to you - Jae
Sumana Roy said…
"... I heard Mother God / whisper, “Optimism has always been the garden /
you’ve replanted when agony uprooted the roses.”....The lines give me so much strength that I can't describe. The only way to survive and live. Beautiful, Susie.
Mary said…
A beautiful poem, Susie. I like the idea of a Mother God who doesn't ask a person to confess sins but just holds one's hand. I will carry that into the new year.
Susan said…
". . . in frantic wishes a year could really arrive
unmolested by the old . . ."
This is my new favorite of all your poems, Susie, it's so unified between the covers frantically wishing, and then reaching for the Mother God's hand, the one who reminds us who we are.
Rajani said…
"in frantic wishes a year could really arrive / unmolested by the old," - no the fireworks don't make the old year just burn away, we carry our scars into the new year, still - because we have that primal hope deep within us, we plant new roses. A beautiful poem, Susie.