It's that time of year again
Where the heat turns up to 11
And suddenly I'm boiling like a cauldron over a hearth
Leaking out all my impurities.
Purging my illness like a lightweight two martinis too many.
Spring was a lie
Summer is my rebirth
And I sweat it out like the metaphorical labor I'm going through.
It's July and my ghosts of Christmas past
Have decided I'm getting too Scrooge-like, again.
Reborn, like I said,
But not without requiring a death to make room for this new life.
And in this death I am haunted,
Revisited by all those summer ghosts
Pain after pain, brought back to spark in my vision
The kind that induces goosebumps and clammy palms.
Some memories, the ones that leave you gasping for air,
Like the time you fell flat on your back from the playground ladder,
Lungs in shock, stunned
Those memories don't fade with time.
They'll disappear for a while,
Fly south for the winter months,
But that summer heat is too familiar.
They'll always come back,
Lurking in parking garages, apartment gates, and on park benches.
Winter cold may sting,
But it was winter who brought you,
And winter when you chose to stay.
It was summer who took you away,
And summer again when you left.
Now the solstice has come
And I've already begun to simmer.
Time to grow anew, again.
I don't know why, but it always is in summer when I do the most growing as a person. This year is no different.