on January

it must be the month
always a bit difficult
to bear
both parents died
in this month
at the beginning
and the end
the middle being
no piece of cake
there were birthdays
this month
of women once important
a sort of yin and yang month
once both light and dark
now all dark
and I hold my breath
as I near the end
watching the rear view mirror
for what’s coming
from behind
while keeping my hands steady
as I move forward
one tentative step
at a time
toward the promise
of an early spring