Things To Mourn For (before the year ends)

Friendships that didn’t survive. The one job you desired and were rejected for. A moment of peace ruined by someone, intentionally. Another, unintentionally. A prayer you almost memorised and forgot. A song you remember, word for word, but never sang. Those pair of shoes you couldn’t save enough for. In time. For time. Everything you once were. For all you never will be, unwillingly. The calls you missed from home. The promises you made about calling back. But never did. Because you didn’t have time. Sometimes, you did not want to. For regret.

Moan for the precious hours spent scrolling the feed of a person you would come to not like. A person who would not eventually like you. The stories that made you relive your pain. The traumas that were triggered.

The rushed meal. The awkward nap.

Disappointments in people.

Places.

Possibilities.

Sorrow over the misplaced car keys. And the misplaced sense of humour. Your lost purpose or the one found half-heartedly. And the will to not talk about it to anyone. For the help that arrived, a tad bit too late. And the one still awaited. For the inheritance of overthinking. Bad sleeping postures. The groceries that were bought and never used. Your anger as you expected them to last longer. For expiry dates. For the hurt because nothing ever lasts.

Ache for the refugees fleeing wars. Girls banned from schools. Women denied rights to their bodies. Climate crises both registered and undocumented. For headlines that were living nightmares. For breaking news that broke your heart. And tried to steal that last ounce of hope you had saved behind the shelf, hidden from the cruelties of greed and power. The layoffs. The inflation. The politics over religion. Communal hatred. Fake news.

The emptiness of existence. The chaos of a crowd. For those who passed away. For the bells that rang. For the doors you did not wish to open. For an intimacy that was breached. The secrets that turned into handouts. For silences that were not understood, habitually. The deep breaths. Long Nights. Bills. Arguments.

Sigh over the address of your last home before you moved. Again. The pending invoice. For your health that suffered at the hands of ignorance. The lingering effects of the pandemic. For the ugly pimple that surfaced right before a big event. That childhood friend you couldn’t wait to reconnect with; now don’t relate to anymore. All the books you wanted to read. The posts you saved in your collections but never returned to. And the conversations too. The stain on your favourite shirt. The sleep that your body craved. Deserved.

Lament for the dreams that, once, were all that you ever wanted but now feel nothing for as they come true. For the plant you couldn't keep alive. And the loss of innocence. The resolutions from last year that have gone bad. Weep for how hard this year was in some parts. As well as for your struggle to embrace your beautiful softness. For the dark that wrestles you to believe that it will win over your light.

Mourn well. Grieve. Sob. Sulk.

Call a friend. Hug someone. Be by yourself.

And then, let it all go.

Smile, slowly. Gently.

You deserve goodness. In spite of it all.

Every breath is a gift. A new year it's evidence.

Begin again.

With wild hope and tender love.