top of page
  • By Adam Sedia

The New Year

The fields stretch out, bare, icy: __Wide, blank, yet-unetched slates, Tabulae rasae, waiting __The chisel of the Fates,

But deep beneath their starkness __A mighty force has stirred, The germ of the becoming, __Unknown, unseen, unheard.

Its course is set in motion __That none may stop or stall: The seeds sown and forgotten __Must sprout, bloom, fruit, and fall.

What shoots will break the furrows, __Coaxed by the waxing sun? What harvest will they proffer: __When the sun’s course has run?

For now they hold their secret; __They tease the guessing eyes, Which only gaze in wonder __And fear at what shall rise.

Adam Sedia (b. 1984) lives in his native Northwest Indiana, with his wife, Ivana, and their children, and practices law as a civil and appellate litigator. In addition to the Society’s publications, his poems and prose works have appeared in The Chained Muse Review, Indiana Voice Journal, and other literary journals. He is also a composer, and his musical works may be heard on his YouTube channel.

bottom of page