Summary

This poetic piece reflects on the month of December in a place where the holiday season contrasts starkly with traditional winter imagery, juxtaposing themes of consumerism, aging, and nature.

Abstract

The text is a contemplative and evocative writing prompt response that paints December in a non-traditional light, devoid of snow and instead filled with the heat of summer down under. It touches upon the frenzy of consumerism, as exemplified by the FIFA World Cup in Qatar, and the sacrifices made for money. The piece contrasts the youthful energy of Aussies with the skilled ease of a middle-aged Messi, highlighting the cruel realities of life's transience. Aging is depicted not as a path to wisdom but as a series of hardships that etch lines of cruel truths into one's face. Despite the claustrophobic confines of an apartment, the vastness of the sky and the flight of dragonflies offer a sense of expansiveness and the unknown. The text concludes with a note of gratitude to Sadie Seroxcat for the prompt and links to related works.

Opinions

The author criticizes the excessive commercialization of events like the FIFA World Cup, which are seen as altars for the insatiable god of Money.
There is a sense of disillusionment with the concept of aging, viewing it as a process that weathers and divides rather than enriching with wisdom.
The poem conveys a bleak outlook on life, with the repeated mention of violence, sacrifice, and the finite nature of human existence.
The natural world is portrayed as indifferent to human struggles, with dragonflies representing the relentless passage of time and the inevitability of change.
The text suggests a personal struggle with the creative process, acknowledging the difficulty of capturing life's essence with words.
The author expresses a profound connection to the December theme, despite the absence of traditional winter elements, instead focusing on the unique experiences of the Southern Hemisphere.

WRITING PROMPT | DECEMBER

December, December

Slowly unravelling down under

December that summer beast

crawling, prowling nine to five

like some army ant looking for an assist

to a goal that never arrives.

we kill to build

glamorous stadiums in dead Qatar heat

for a month of FIFA free-for-all.

what sacrifice are we not prepared to make

for that insatiable god, Money?

middle-aged Messi makes it look so easy

parting the yellow sea of young Aussies,

destroying dreams and hopes with

that playful twinkle in his eyes —

deadly talent, smiling assassin.

December, December, hot, windy, barren,

no Santa in sight, no snow and pine —

just ravens and magpies, snakes and high interest rates.

got to pinch and save this year tighten the belt, mask up,

conserve, wait, wait, the clock is ticking,

the organs have a use-by date — cholesterol, waning immunity,

anxiety, the heart pulse, tongue.

dip into retirement savings, premature, hasty —

the cake is cut. chocolate, dark red

fruit. might have well been my

heart, my fate, my face.

why does violence pour from my pen?

can I touch life’s blade with a few sharp words?

always approximating, taking a stab, missing.

years don’t make you wiser, kinder, finer, more skilled.

the wisdom of aging is a myth, a bedtime story.

years cut into you, crack you up, divide you, etch

lines of life’s cruel truths into your incredulous face.

December waits for our tired arrival —

patient, steady, marble certain.

the apartment might feel no larger than a coffin

but the balcony view shows uninterrupted cloud —

such vast spaces blue, white, gray,

and a thousand dragonflies fly just over our heads

like locusts, going god knows where.

___________________

Thank you to Sadie Seroxcat for inviting me to this prompt.

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