“April Is The Cruelest Month”
The Day 4 prompt of National Poetry Writing Month was to write a poem about the cruelest month-what is the cruelest month to you and why?
I really gave this a lot of thought because, truly, some months are harder to get through than others some years. And, some people (like AJ) have one month in particular every year that ties them onto the train tracks while it plays chicken with the oncoming engine.
But what month is the cruelest month for me? I couldn’t decide. Generally speaking, I feel it depends on my attitude. Last year I would have to say it was December… or maybe this past January… and February…hell, March was freaking brutal.
Except that they weren’t hard at all. Frankly, the only reason they were hard is because I was sick and went through a mild depression so my attitude towards life in general sucked. March in particular kicked my ass. I am finally feeling well and human again. Positive things have been happening and so my attitude is better.
That got me thinking though. Is today’s society hard-wired to expect a certain time of year to be harder than the rest? Have we been inundated with so much negativity through media that we simply begin to complain…about anything? What right do we have to complain at all? We have the right to pursue happiness, but what I’m seeing and listening to currently is hate and negative thinking…and it’s all around me. Does other people’s expectations influence the time of year for certain feelings to the point that I begin complaining about it as well?
You reap what you sow.
My poem today is about that. It’s about one person’s attitude toward another and the ultimate consequence of that attitude. When your expectations of someone aren’t met, you treat them a certain way. Then you become upset when they don’t respond or they respond in direct opposition to how you think they should.
And then, they or you die, and you’ve both lost the chance to forgive and try again. That’s why it’s important to make the most of the time you have now. Lose your preset judgments. Life is too short.
You reap what you sow.
The Cruelest Month
By Jesi Scott
We met in May-
Late spring with summer’s blush just beginning to stain her cheeks;
Gentle breezes, soft as bird feathers, brushed the skin of darkening leaves…
But you didn’t like me then.
We lived together in June and July-
Summer storms gathered with a turbulent velocity;
The overweight sky threatening to smother us until,
Together, we huddled under cover.
You left in November-
Burnt leather leaves crunched under burdened footsteps;
Atlas took his overdue lunch break while I held the weight of the world
On my shoulders, my tears falling on your grave.
Forever frozen in winter’s icy grip,
hardened ground kept its hidden secrets,
while evergreen regret blossomed its poisonous berries.