I hear them playing Auld Lang Syne...

2006 has been an exceedingly hard year for me emotional-wise, health-wise and poetry-wise (though I've finally started to write again -YAY!!-after a 7 month block). The only shining star was a rediscovery of my artistic roots, which I have now fully and gluttonously embraced. Making art has kept me afloat this past year by giving me a way to keep my mind occupied in a positive way - without it I would have been dwelling far too much on the loss of my mother and step-father, and how that loss turned my somewhat boring but comfortable previous life completely upside down in far too many ways. I am now faced with the task of redefining who I am, and what I want to do with the rest of my life - and I'm learning that this is both a joyous and painful process.

I must give thanks to all my friends - personal and web-centered and those of you at PFFA - who have shown their support and caring. Without you I would have surely had some kind of breakdown by now. I would've been swallowed whole by this heavy, black shadow of grief that refuses to fade away. But enough of that, because I really want to wish you all a very healthy, happy and prosperous New Year. Let's hope 2007 is a real good 'un for everyone, and that I'll finally find my way out of this long, dark tunnel.

A new poem, the final one for 2006, that pretty much sums up where I'm at right now.

This Last Day of the Year

I go among rows of weathered teeth beneath the naked trees
on West Third Street to visit my parents, Michael and Stella;
"together again," as their headstone reads.
Two wreaths blanket their final bed and a small, wooden
"Merry Christmas" sign complete with tree and Santa
stands above their heads.

The steel breeze stabs as I try to begin
a silent conversation that starts and stops.
What can I say to them
that they don't already know?

Chilled, I walk back to the warmth of my car
with its welcome diversion of a radio
and drive away with my tears,
no resolutions made.

copyright by Cookala 2006