The sun is bright above,
dancing and jumping off the snow just to blind me.
The icy gales move around my body
and envelope me in a frozen hug.
I feel surrounded by a strange frostbitten comfort,
the kind of comfort that seems go against
everything evolution should have taught me.
With my face turned up towards the sky I
send a prayer of gratitude to matka smrti
and in case she is listening I try not to
think about how
in 12 weeks I will be singing
as the village children
throw her effigy in the river.
The village men will dance and drum
as the drowns. Her frozen landscape gone
and unappreciated. Her life
born anew as Spring begins.
A childlike mourning wells up in me,
so I ignore my purpling hands
A let myself stand out on the frozen lake
just to mourn the end of Her,
She who is the end to all.
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