The Package

It’s that feeling that always
Sweeps through at
This time of the year…
The feelingness of hollow and that of fear.

Fear of the unknown…
Fear of facing truths,
Fear of silence and darkness
Fear of the life’s mess…

One wants the times to pass,
And the fears to not last…
The grieving to disappear as soon
As it came, the life to be a cocoon.

But then the cold of the weather hits hard…
So does the hand of coldness,
It pinches and hurts as the day wears on
and bruises the heart like a thorn.

And then the realization dawns,
It’s the part of a package
That gels the good with strife,
It’s that package called Life.