NaPoWriMo#17: Millennium

Millennium
By Justine C. Tajonera

I greet you, season of peaks and edges.
Elsewhere, you are known as the time when
the falcon cannot hear the falconer. I have risen
at dawn to glimpse your face, a glass of water in
my hands, the cityscape dead silent. I have tried to
keep you out of my door, in the past, but I hear you
knocking almost every day. You are no stranger.
You hold the mirror up to my face. Come in,
come in. I cannot deny you. I scramble to prepare
you a place. You will cross the threshold one way
or another. Let it be through the front door,
green and dusty welcome mat beneath your feet.
I won't have you sneak through the back door.
You will meet my children, if not now,
then when they are grown. Let us see each other,
face to face. What will be swept away, will be
swept away. What will hold, will hold.