DecPoWriMo 23

I cannot wrap 
My head around 
Like a present 
All the sadness 

And not ordinary 
Normal sadness 
Most people feel 
This time of year 

But the overwhelming 
When will it end 
That has accumulated
Like time piling up 

So many distances 
Between one and 
The other but also 
Closenesses that leap 

Even across decades 
An old factory that 
Makes identical copies 
Imperceptibly different 

For each recipient 
Somehow it all feels
Abundant here when 
We cannot be there 

Perhaps the only gift 
We have is to hold 
Onto this soon to be 
Discarded wrapping paper 

And save it for another time