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Between the Old and the New Year


I will write down in sand
Of hopes shattered
Of life collapsed;

I don’t even get the chance to suffer, to break down
In silhouettes in darkness, totally down
In my hometown
Though usual it goes as it is
As it always exists;

Of a new year
I can hear the celebration with blaring sounds
Inside my head—
Of automatic guns
Of bombs
Of splattering blood;

Let me write in stone
Verdurous landscapes
New experiences
Meaninglessness
And more emptiness
Till death do my heart and soul apart.

And I’m far away from home
And I have lost my way back home;
Do new years come to my home?
It used to, but no more I’m sure;
Is it an old year leaving?
Is it a new year coming?

Related piece:
   As the Year Draws Towards Its End   

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