This year contains no resolutions.
This year will reveal itself to me.
This year may teach me
the meaning of words with granite at their core,
like perseverance and cope.
This year will laugh out loud.
It will protect the curves of soft words
like hope and community.
It will see fireworks blaze across the sky in such glorious cacophony
that we’ll remember to look up.
It will see snow drift across its eyes in sleepy incomprehension.
This year makes no promises.
This year is for getting stronger.
It is for working my core—physically, emotionally, spiritually.
This year knows that self-knowledge
is the first step
of all the best dances.
This year is for remembering mantras:
Balance is equal parts work and play.
I don’t want to live an anxious life.
This year I may or may not be in the zone,
depending on the day,
the direction of the wind,
and my ability to hold words like fortitude and faith
on the tip of my tounge.
This year will remind me
that once upon a time
is always now.