IMG_5010I do not want the winter to end.
There is a kind of comfort
in being iced over and locked down.

The snow melts in mid-February
from a pocket of warmth in the sky
that descends just long enough
to take deeper breaths.

It is both welcome and unwelcome.

And like a season of grief,
the cold returns.
The bitterness of nature
does what it must.

With canned dreams and haunting scenes,
the thought of holding you
follows me throughout the day
and into the night.

(Your end arrived during my deep slumber
and in sleep, I see you now).

The night sky
can be such a blunt instrument

It has captured you,
and left me here–
covered in scales,
each one holding a drop, a cell, a breath, a memory of you.

My God, this world is so cruel.

I cling to the hope
that wherever you are,
you can forgive this world
for its unkindness.

I am working on it, too.

And maybe one day
we can be forgiving,


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