You can have it all back - but never the same -
the door of your childhood house, your childhood heart.
But sure as the sun rises and will one day be embers -
as sure as the loneliness in the darkest of hour -
the year will turn on, and you will turn with it.

Take your joy in what places, what people you'll find it -
from the strains of the organ, cheap lights in the dark.
From the flare of a match to the smiles on the streetway -
take nothing away, but take all that is offered.

You are here, spite the dark, spite the loss, spite the hunger -
to endure, to remain, to rage at the seasons.
Whether tree, whether heartsore, whether gifts or rice pudding -
the return of the sun comes, and us to turn with it.

So pour out your tea - your whiskey - your comfort.
The niveous shiver, the icicles trembling.
Take what family you'll make, you'll break, and you'll barter.
Take what name you will give it, or none if you have to.
The days will grow longer, the snow will grow deeper -
The heart will grow roots - and one day, grow larger.

And we will have light if we have to set the motherfucker on fire,
ourselves, or our roof, each dream once expired.
Claw for hope in the darkness, or more in our hunger -
for the what we have lost and the day to grow longer.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.