The Gift of the Turning Year

I sit with the weight of all that has been—

The joys that lifted,

The sorrows that carved hollows in my heart.

Each moment, a teacher.

The past lingers, not as a shadow,

But as a map of where I’ve wandered—

The winding roads, the sharp turns,

The stillness of an open field.

The present pulses, alive with quiet gifts—

The breath I draw,

The voices of those I love,

The unseen threads that hold me here.

The future calls, uncertain yet steady,

A horizon I cannot hold.

I am thankful for its mystery,

For its promise to arrive

Just as it should.

In all things—good and bad,

Known and unknown—

There is a wholeness I cannot escape.

And I am grateful.