The New Year Cometh

Published January 1, 2017 by mindfulofchatter



The new year has not yet arrived to my little part of the world. There are still hours left before that west coast ball drops and the year is officially welcomed in.

I have no plans this evening. I have no one to pass the time with. I have no traditions to perform. I doubt I will be awake when the hour is struck and the year turns anew.

2016 was not good year. It was full of hardships and sadness. Looking back I can’t remember even a brief moment of joy and happiness. The losses added up to be a heavy burden on my heart and soul. I am not sad to see 2016 turn itself away and leave.

I know many people will say to look at the strength I found. But I didn’t find any new strength. It was always there, and has always been there. My life has twisted and turned a great many times over the years. I have always found the strength to move on, move forward. It simply gets harder as I get older. I suppose the best thing about 2016 is ending it with a roof over my head. The roof is over a horrible little apartment with two people and their things crammed inside, but there is a roof. And food. And heat. And best of all, Arty, my wonderful four-legged companion.

I don’t know what 2107 will bring. It may be better. It may be simply a continuation of 2016. I simply have no idea what’s in store. I will do my best to face each challenge as it comes, to get up when I stumble, to do what needs to done to survive one more week. I can not think much further ahead than that at the moment. Next week. Next week will be next year. And it all begins anew.

I may be battered, but I’m still standing.


2 comments on “The New Year Cometh

  • Still Here

    been scared and battered.
    My hopes the wind done scattered.
    Snow has friz me,
    Sun has baked me,

    Looks like between ’em they done
    Tried to make me

    Stop laughin’, stop lovin’, stop livin’–
    But I don’t care!
    I’m still here!
    Langston Hughes

  • And even better !
    You may write me down in history
    With your bitter, twisted lies,
    You may tread me in the very dirt
    But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

    Does my sassiness upset you?
    Why are you beset with gloom?
    ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
    Pumping in my living room.

    Just like moons and like suns,
    With the certainty of tides,
    Just like hopes springing high,
    Still I’ll rise.

    Did you want to see me broken?
    Bowed head and lowered eyes?
    Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
    Weakened by my soulful cries.

    Does my haughtiness offend you?
    Don’t you take it awful hard
    ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
    Diggin’ in my own back yard.

    You may shoot me with your words,
    You may cut me with your eyes,
    You may kill me with your hatefulness,
    But still, like air, I’ll rise.

    Does my sexiness upset you?
    Does it come as a surprise
    That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
    At the meeting of my thighs?

    Out of the huts of history’s shame
    I rise
    Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
    I rise
    I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
    Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
    Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
    I rise
    Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
    I rise
    Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
    I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
    I rise
    I rise
    I rise.
    Maya Angelou

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