April awakes the Chimera
This will be the year of our redemption, we tell ourselves.
We do not speak that hope aloud, give voice to the fantasy
that we can regain the heat and hunger of younger days.
Pipe dreams do not bear rough handling or close scrutiny.
But alone and in secret we light the taper and peer down into
the depths of the dungeon to see the slumbering Chimera,
that fiery creature chained, held in stasis past living memory,
once strong, bold, daring, fierce, impetuous, too often cruel,
at last defeated and gone sullen, petulant, fractious, furious.
April warms the monster and makes it stir, eases bodily aches
and spiritual doldrums that torment us winterlong with reports
confirming rumors of corporeal incarceration and slow decay.
The scent of April is a catalyst, an aether-borne reagent
that dissolves our stolid elements, releasing energy and light
reflected in the mirrors of our memories of eternal sunshine.
Warmed and coaxed by the promises of April winds we trust
the enticements whispered from the wet, fecund lips of spring.
We stumble from the cavern to seek the river of rejuvenation,
ready to shed tattered clothes, heavy baggage, pains, infirmities,
trembling to know the miraculous rebirth of body, mind, and soul.
Deep within us the Chimera stirs, awakes, slips free of shackles.
She can stand, walk. Can she run? Can she fly? April bids her try.