From the baby pool of inconveniences and regrets
that I swim in I can only wish a happy new year
without knowing what you went through.
Just assuming your shoes are as comfortable as mine.
From the ordinariness for which I am thankful
I foolishly greet that your wishes should fulfill
without an inkling, that your wish is to not exist
at all to escape the recurring conflict and pain.
I put a clip of memory on the moth-like moments
that outlasted their lifetimes without realizing
the crumble of their fragile wings. A glass heart
after all holds my happiness frozen in its step.
The toss of time and the winds of change and
all the idioms of passing are sheltered in greetings.
But you, you are the one searching for shelter
in the dark, escaping the fireworks of a civil war.
The turn of a year, what does it mean, for you are
already hallucinating in hunger and wishing for a
random wander of kindness which by a remote
chance might save us all from ourselves.