Finding Portals

As the calendar closes
On this final day of the year,
I feel little
Beyond a quiet indifference.

Looking back
At everything I created,
One thing remains clear,
My enthusiasm
Never truly left me.

But somewhere along the way,
I did.
My output declined.
I still feel lost.

As though encased
Within an airtight concrete bunker,
Lightless.
Airless.
Restrained.
Writing became
My greatest refuge.

My private notebooks
Grew increasingly illegible,
Their pages
Heavy with frantic imagery.
Some were illustrated
With such force
That the paper tore.

Words screamed across the margins.
Pages were punctured,
Discarded,
Replaced.

Each wrapped
In an explosion
Of coloured madness,
As though
Several versions of myself
Were all trying
To speak at once.

Uncontrolled.
Unrefined.
Searching.

Perhaps that
Is the purpose
Of a new year.
Not to become
Someone different,
But to rediscover
Who has always been there.

To turn
The walls of my mind
From prison
Into portals.

To walk once more
Toward the place
Where creativity,
Wonder,
And wellness
Meet.