It was the way of the old ones
to clear away the dregs of the past
pile it all up in a heaping pyre
on top of regrets and sorrows,
sadness and fear.
All the old clothes, furniture,
clay pots and worn shoes,
even the children’s toys–
they piled it up, piled it up,
and watched it burn.
All the anger, all the hurt,
envy, loss and lies,
and especially fears–
pile it up, pile it up,
watch it burn.
Start this month fresh and clean,
pure as a chick from the shell;
let the past be gone with winter’s cold–
it’s April, and all the world is new.
It’s NaPoWriMo! A poem a day month! Will I complete the challenge? Here’s Day 1, based on a prompt from First50.