Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Soul Frost Between Samhain and Solstice


Breathing in shards of glass, air so sharp it cuts
 the lungs and rakes the nose raw-
lips red, raggedy, whipped by the wind.
Heat and light flowing from the fire
warms the body, but leaves the soul chilled
the coolness winds around my legs
and, like old ghosts at my feet
coldness settles in the bones
In November, O Sol sets much too early.
.
The wintery twins Woe and Dysphoria
pull me down and sit on me-
I try to leave them home
where they belong-
but they follow me
hauntingly.

Looking down now, my hands
this year, they are
like my mother's hands
dry and cold and
slippery with wear,
i hold them out to the fire
as a kind of offering.






9 comments:

Mike Keegin said...

Beautiful!

Marina Sofia said...

This poem so vividly captures this cold time of year! I especially enjoyed the last stanza, the connection between generations and holding out your hands to the fire as an offering. The 'breathing in shards of glass' was also a powerful image, so much so that I am not sure you needed the 'air so sharp it cuts' after it.

Brian Miller said...

there was a day that i lived outdoors...actually it was for a year...and fire became life....to cook & keep warm...def make me feel cold this morning...ha...

whenspaceissilence said...

Good poem!
The last stanza can easily stand as a poem by itself.

billgncs said...

your words make me see your poem - very nicely written

dragyonfly said...

Thank u everyone.

dragyonfly said...

Especially meaningful coming from you.

dragyonfly said...

Thanks marina!

dragyonfly said...

Appreciate the kind words.