Thanksgiving

The Thanksgivings continue to add up

and my heart is no longer quite broken.

It is oddly lumpy and scarred and battered

and has lost the ability to mourn and wail

but it is definitely of one piece.

Every year a bit is gained a bit is lost

and I ignore the consequences of this.

It is a part of aging a part of life and of dying

that goes on until it doesn’t

until I am no longer aware of the sequence.

A memory here a recollection there

like relics to be prayed over and mulled.

I have collected all I can collect

that collection is now part of the background

and collects dust in place of tears.

Except every now and then a solitary spark

ignites the fire to flames once again.

These fires threaten to engulf and overwhelm

they crackle and spread from the center

to my mind to my heart to my soul.

Yet each time they start to burn and encroach 

upon some unscarred ground they dampen down.

A lack of fuel a lack of oxygen a lack of heat

saves me once again from the memories

banked and dulled amongst the ashes.

Thanksgiving is a wind barely stirring the embers

though there are other days I dread and avoid.

I seek to pour water on the smoldering

I need to quench the center of the fire

that welds my lump of a heart together.

11/24/16

jeg.