Spring, Memory, and the Question of What Remains

Spring is here, and it gives me room to breathe—to relax, to take in the fresh air.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the human condition, about the state of human affairs. I can feel it in my poetry too—a shift. Toward control. Or maybe toward abstraction. I’m not entirely sure which.

I entered 2025 with 64 almost-complete manuscripts, written between 2018 and 2024. It should feel like a triumph—a journey nearing its end—but I find myself hesitating.

At the end of 2024, when resolution season came, I promised I would publish them all quickly. I didn’t. At first, I thought it was perfectionism.

But is it?

When I finished The Seer, I refused to edit it. I published it exactly as it came—to prove something to myself. That a first draft can stand. That the raw form has its own truth.

So perhaps it’s not perfectionism after all.

With Orthodox Easter approaching, I find myself asking what my younger self would think of me now—of the goals I chase, of the life I am building.

I used to love Christian holidays. Especially Easter. Especially Christmas.

I remember my grandmother painting eggs—red, always red. I remember how we would crack them against each other, each of us trying to be the last one unbroken, claiming the others as trophies.

We watched films about Christ. It was part of it.

I still remember one night—people in the neighborhood gathered money to rent Jesus of Nazareth so all the children could watch it together. We sat outside, under the dark sky, and I can still hear the voice of an old woman beside us, cursing those who crucified Him as if it were happening in that very moment.

Easter wasn’t a date. It was an event.

It brought people together. It gave us something to wait for, something to share.

There was a natural gratitude then—not scheduled, not practiced, not forced.

People showed up for one another. They helped. They cared. Not because they had to—but because they had already decided to.

That was the result of real commitment.

Of intention.

Today, we schedule gratitude.

Back then, we lived it.

So I ask you—

What decisions are you making, day by day, to help the people around you?