A New Year’s Poem
By DOREY MUNCH, Oneonta
The closing of the old year,
The dawning of the new
Have brought me to my cupboard
Armed with firm resolve
To rummage through the shelves within
And root out those inhabitants
Destined for the garbage bin.
What a sorry lot it is
It pains me to disclose,
For in enumerating,
My faults I must expose.
Here’s leftover grievances
All dried up in the box,
There’s a little bottled rage
Fizzled flat with age.
And over here, what’s this I see
Moldering in the corner?
A heap of judgments made in haste
That time has swiftly laid to waste.
And here, up front, in easy reach
For self-commiserating:
Old hurts, indignities and slights –
Spices that have lost their bite.
Next, what’s this my hand has touched,
Secreted on highest shelf?
A treasured grudge tucked away,
Keeping for another day.
Away with all that is here stored,
Unholy accumulation!
How good, how cleansing for the soul
To have these sins retired.
But not so fast – let’s not be rash,
For who would be offended
Or think me less than thrifty if
I put back on the shelf a few
Whose dates have not expired?