Too often this year I have heard a familiar mantra “maybe next year”, “let’s focus on surviving”, “this is not explicitly my problem.”

Next year

Two words, a double sided sword

Once upon a time

They played the parts of a promise

Let’s focus on surviving

As if focus has ever had anything to do with survival

or everything to do with survival

Once upon a time we hunted

precision of arrows enveloped our thoughts

we no longer need to focus

to survive

We have been

So direct your focus to me

Your problems may be yours

but ours are also yours

and yours swirl in my mind

interlocking railway tracks

and you’re coming to the station late

Oh wait

this date…

A year of nothing, of an empty glass

poised next to a pitcher

of silence, except for the ring of the rim

and I am even a weak whisper

Please help me pour us all drink

Even if it’s not in your contract