Not Wallowing in Despair

Several of you have expressed concern that "Resurrection Blues" is very dark and are perhaps imagining that my mind is in a precarious place. I think of it more as black humour set to blues and I enjoyed myself immensely while I was writing it. How can you achieve clarity without dispelling illusion?

Resurrection Blues

They called me down to the morgue
To see my dead illusions
"Pack them up
Take them home
Burn a fire
Down to the bone."
I threw some prayers up to my god
He says he cannot use them
"Take a jar
Pack it tight
Cry all day
and half the night."

I pressed my thumb in dust and ashes
Set a mark upon my skin
Dressed in black
Sighed and moaned
Set a melancholy tone
Bought some lilies and champagne
Drank a toast to all my sins
I was blind
But now I see
My illusions
died for me

©Nancy Neenan Michaels

New Year's Resolution

I never move for fun anymore. I don't dance down the street or jump over parking meters or shake my hips and shoulders. I just shake my head and disapprove of other's excess energy. See, I just called it "excess" energy because I'm jealous that I don't have any. I sit too much: a lump in front of my computer, forgetting to stretch, on the couch reading, in the car back and forth when I could be walking.

Energy is one thing you can get more of by using it, like love. "Keep the juices flowing by jangling around gently as you move." said Satchel Paige. Move, move, dance, jump. I go to the gym, I do yoga, I walk the dog, but my intention this New Year is simply: Keep Moving.