MADE TO RISE

Winter

 

This is what I came up with

collectively

these events follow through

traveling

the trees let their flowers fall 

the wind lets me in again

washes me down

wind blows our clothes away

leaves rotating

stalks us, over heat

each move under our skin

peeling layers from the skin

the cold. 

And this is what I feel

how this wind takes from us 

the pressure of the days

the pressure in the road

in the hammering of nails

in my mind

an absence that shuts

my mouth

some familiar aching, my fingertips

peeling my soul

from the stem

I find the darkness

(where was I before?)

cold circles through my chest

wipes me off

a stain from summertime

it is winter

I still create.