December

By Grace Cuddihy

A poem about going home for the holidays.

It is December and we must be brave. 

In times of happiness, 
I have a strong moral compass, 
am uncompromising, vocal. 

December is depression 
the weather is my sadness
dark, cold, unforgiving. 
My sadness is the holidays
with family, I conform. 
I am washed out, 
indulgent, obliging. 
I am quiet because I bite my tongue. 

I put on a mask with family. 
The mask hides that I am queer,
it hides my passion, 
it kills me. 

I compromise in December 
like clockwork
I see my family,
I hide myself for their benefit. 
I accommodate them, 
because I know they would hate me.

They say “those people” to refer to people like me,
I want to scream. 
I want to cry.

I want to run away. 
But I can’t, so I don’t.

Every year, the mask is harder to put on. 
I reach December and I am exhausted
I want to stay home.
But if I do, then I am the difficult one. 
I am that family member, 
the one who does not put on the mask. 

Why is it harder for me?
Everyone else seems okay 
walking the tightrope of contradiction
I am losing my balance.

December is a month of loneliness. 
of feeling different, invalid. 
But every year has a December, 
every December I must go on. 
So it is December, and I must be brave. 
It is December and we must be brave. 

Process

This piece began with a daily writing prompt from the site “Poets & Writers.” The prompt was to write a poem that starts with the phrase “It is December and we must be brave,” the first line of Natalie Diaz’s in “Manhattan is a Lenape Word” poem. The poem began with a free write, and then my mentor and I worked to edit it down to the final poem.