At the start of a new decade, it’s easy to set lots of resolutions and look ahead. But this month our poets turn to their reflections for inspiration in Emily Hall’s aptly-named ’20-20 vision’ and Lauren Winson’s poems on the power of memory.
My 20-20 vision is not as it should be,
The letters are merging and turning, they’re laughing straight at me.
I wish they’d just stop moving, at least so I can think,
About why the D’s are becoming B’s every time I blink.
Our visions can change I know that now, our hopes and goals can too,
Twenty Nineteen has certainly been a year of hardships- but we’re through.
The troubles you faced last year, may stay with you a while,
But soon you’ll see that every single D-A-Y isn’t there to make you smile.
Depending on where you stand, things are always going to look different,
What brought you joy before you may now find insignificant.
Because the glasses through which we sometimes view life,
Are smeared and scratched with a pessimistic knife.
Which restricts us and forces us into a box,
Which we can only escape from at the turn of a clock.
When midnight strikes on January first,
The entire human race undergoes a rebirth.
And all of the trials and tribulations of past,
Can be forgotten, and new vision is restored at last.
Composted memories grown thorny,
twisted around a rose-tinted view,
crept up on me, unkempt weeds.
Unconsciously retracing old scars, unable to resist
your presence- insistently vivid: in memory only.
Now all I feel is the twinge of taut skin
binding together, marking you
upon my body.
In that moment, you were everything
I needed to get by
But it wasn’t enough
For you to be my crutch
For me to lean on, but it seemed wrong when I was suddenly
But I knew it was right and
I didn’t learn overnight how to walk
Bambi on ice, I was trembling dice in the hands of someone who knew
Their luck was out.
Seeing in a new year which
You won’t be a part of.
An absent text alert caused hurt beyond which I could have imagined, sadness I can’t fathom–
But as the clock moves time proves he is the best healer.
He introduces you to self worth, who greets you with a
Birth of new confidence.
People enter our lives in waves
But they are not the ones who gave
Us our core.
That is all you, everything you’ve been through, the anguish and pain
You are all that remains.
Perhaps scared, undoubtedly lonely, but eventually you’ll see.
You can carry your own weight. Your own baggage.
Without someone by your side. So let the tide roll out and trust its return will come,
When you’ve learnt to be happy as one.
Featured image courtesy of Tahira Rowe.