This Day Continues

Graphic by Ariana Perales

My rite of passage
is commemorated by tiny striped torches
neatly planted in a bed of buttercream.
They stand colorfully,
waiting for the strike of a match
to wither their wicks
and ignite familiar flames.

♦

At last,
I am warmly consoled by the yearly glow
until it illuminates the faces
I expected to deeply know.
Still,
they encircle me with admiration
eager to commence my celebration
and with brimming anticipation
My guests loudly rejoice,
in a sung
declaration.

As their voices resound in my mind,
I desperately look to the crowd for any familiar faces I can find
realizing no amount of heartfelt invites
could ever summon the looks of those I cried for most nights.
And to all who now embrace me,
I feel ashamed to only look at them wistfully.


This moment, knowingly mine —
demands that I graciously close my eyes,
bask in the “love” that has presently survived,
and deeply inhale to immerse myself
in the year’s passage of time.

♦

In search of my birthday wish
my mind can only see
the memories of people I never imagined would leave me
the moments of friendship that simply transcended infinity.
All I crave is silence from what I grieve,
for nothing seems to drown the noise of feeling incomplete —
All except
A truth painful
to perceive:

The inevitability of time’s continuous journey.

My attachment to “always” and “forever”
has left me unable to appreciate
the very nature of love in the first place —
Its roots of hope—that throughout all walks of life
I will be cherished, during every strife.

♦

As tears stream down my cheeks,
I finally open my eyes
And after exhaling,
bittersweetly realize:

This day is not merely a reminder of my grief
or a demand to feel utterly complete.
Instead,
It honors the love I have had the privilege to feel
and the new love I must welcome
as I continue to patiently heal. ■

Graphic by Ariana Perales