Christmas Day 5: The Old Year

The old year runs away from me.
I hang onto her sleeve
but she shakes me loose.
where does the old year go
when the new year comes?

She slips away into memories,
falls into the crevice of wishes
and ought-to-have-dones.
she waits no longer upon promises,
turns her back on might-have-been.

The elves of the old year step in,
pack up the struggles, store the joys,
tuck them away in the bulging box,
spreading them out on the psyche’s floor.

Today: I prepare interiorly for the new year.

Source: Out of the Ordinary, p. 147

This reflection from Anchors for the Soul: Daily Wisdom for Inspiration and Guidance by Joyce Rupp is reprinted with permission of the publisher, Ave Maria Press.
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