Do I unplug all the clocks in the house? Do I take out the batteries? Do I leave time without power and uncharged for 10 minutes? Is this the year that I turn off time and then turn it back on and it starts working again? I have been hitting reset and that hasn’t done much. It doesn’t reset. Time continues, operating inefficiently, unwinding and unmended. Suboptimal.
Is this the year of a fresh new start?
Is this the year when I get bang for my buck, the year I order an appetizer, the year I buy two and get the third for half price? I look through the flyers at all the things I could have. Shrimp rings and nose hair trimmers, lava lamps and roses.
Is this the year when all of this, when all of that, will be mine?
Is this the year that things fall into place for me or is this the year that my teeth continue to fall out and I fall apart? Is it time for me to plan my funeral, to be clear about my wishes about end of life? Is this the year I can face my death, prepare for it, but feel safe that I am in the now and I am simply planning in advance not for what’s around the corner?
Is this the year I drive myself around the bend?
Is this the year that my mind clears?
Is this the time that someone helps me, sticks with me, loves me?
Is this the year that I am liberated; from myself and from those that held me back? Is this the year of my freedom? The escape from fear and to become elusive from rejection, camouflaged and invisible to loneliness.
Is this another year when people take what’s left of me and leave nothing of theirs behind?
Will I be perfect and notice my thoughts and where I go with them? Is this the year that being half way there is good enough?
Is this the year that it all comes together or is this just time extending, continuing and I persist as I persist, unmended?
Could this be my year of transformation?
Am I the hunter, captured, displaying my weakness to attract the attention of the predator? By being strong, I must be weak to benefit my pack. Do I surrender as an act of survival or for the greater good?
Will this year be about good and what that means to me and to others?
Do I explore art? Do I sing about revival ?
Am I holding you back and if I let myself go, will you move on further than you ever have while I disappear? One or two memories and no name carved anywhere, not in sand nor in stone, only in a tree that’s fallen down somewhere.
It’s what I do with myself not what you’ve done to me.
Is this the time that you take me to Funkytown?
Is this the year that I find myself standing up after I have fallen down?
Is this the year that tomorrow is no longer another day?
Is this my time to prosper and thrive? Is it my time to roll up and cry?
Time, it kisses and it tells. I hide behind the activity of distraction so no one can whisper that I am not doing that well.
The time space continuum; are you the benevolent dictator I’ve waited for?
Is it time, is this the time, is this the year that I break through, rusted shackles crumbling not from my strength but from the oxidation of time?
Where is my strength? Where does it lie? Is it what built the walls that support and protect me and now it is time to take that force and tear down those walls?
Is this the year I let go? Or is this the year I fortify more?
Is this the year that everything will be OK?
– Harlon Davey, 2015