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