Words of wisdom via Naomi Shihab Nye
3rd Ritual

Burning the Old Year


Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.

So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn’t do
crackle after the blazing dies.

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Image: Untitled by Daido Moriyama, 2018

End of year reflection:

What do you now know that you didn't one year ago?
3rd Ritual
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