Closure

Because I am surviving a land
In conflict where the names of guns
And the communities that wield them
Are said so often that the people who died
Because of it could not find rest and peace

Because I am surviving a year
Of so many— war, love, joy, pain

And that I have survived it
To its last cup, to its last night,
I am writing this sober
To find some semblance of closure.

But how does one even find closure
From a year that traumatized you
And your family, your communities
And your town, and your world?
You don't.
You just feel as if you lucked out
And you feel almost relieved, guiltily.