We stand at the lip of midnight
breath held like a benediction,
the old year folding itself into a pocket of memory.
Goodness and grief have come in equal measure:
gifts wrapped in light, lessons wrapped in ache.
Thank you, I murmur to every bitter hour and sweet hour alike,
for each taught me how to steady my hands, how to pray when the night was long.
Tonight I release the worn-out maps of doubt,
the debts of worry, the small betrayals of fear.
I lay them gently on the altar of last year,
and watch the embers of what was burn bright and teach.
I am grateful for the doors that opened,
for the voices that stayed, for the hands that let go
all sacred teachers on a strange and tender road.
Even sorrow, sober and stern, disciplined my heart to hope.
Now, a new road unfurls like scripture yet unread,
blank as first snow, humming with possibility.
I step forward with cautious courage, with a laugh tucked into my pocket,
and a prayer on my lips: that mercy will walk beside me, steady as dawn.
May faith be the lamp I carry, not a shield against questions,
but a light that shows the way when choices are fogged.
May compassion be my compass, generosity my currency,
and humility the shoes with which I travel.
We will build nothing perfect, only brave;
we will stumble, then gather up our courage and rise.
Let each failure be fertilizer for the next bloom,
each grace an answered whisper from a sky that remembers our names.
Come, New Year, we welcome you with open hands,
with songs half-formed and promises to keep.
Be gentle with our fragile plans; be fierce with our faith.
Lead us into laughter, into work that matters, into love that endures.
And when the road narrows, and shadows lengthen,
let us recall this night of gratitude and vow again:
to be kinder, truer, more alive
to trust that every ending is the seam of a new beginning.
Amen and onward, with hope.
