this newness

what is with this newness that
doesn’t change anything?

the air still pricks like a year-old
thought, the water still burns and
scars the remnants of a shed-skin,
the blue stays a blue and warmth
only comes in intervals of counted
breaths, and all is fine, as fine as
it can be, on a fragile winter-sun,
still uncanny in its resemblance
with oldness and frailty, and yet
a pithy belief for rest and peace.

i pick moments from this stagnancy,
and venture for an apathetic re-
conciliation with my old selves,
drinking from the same pool of
aging and forgetting, and in mind’s
eyes, i can see that it is but the same,
the angles and frames have dearly
changed for a different, if not a better
perspective, of the dipping sky, going
beneath my window, into my words,
and quenching the need for change,
which is not in the coming today.

© Anmol Arora

Image source (Year of change at Wildwood by Andy Reisdorph)
Linking it up with this year’s first
Tuesday Platform at With Real Toads