Find your tribe in a Sea of Creativity
I thawed, didn’t I?
Like winter ice in spring,
Mountain run-off streaming into brooks and rivers.
I felt the warmth of life—
Blossoms bloomed crimson violet vibrant blues.
The sun was on my heart; I felt it melt, felt it give.
Yet now, I stand staring into nothing searching for something;
I stare at the placid blue surface around me,
Not a ripple in sight.
This isn’t stoicism,
This isn’t strength.
This is calcifying into marble, is dying
With your eyes wide open,
Is stranding yourself on a lonesome little island and thinking it might
not be so bad after all, disappearing.
I thawed, yes, but now
I think all that was keeping me from sinking was the permafrost
And now, that’s gone, too.
(remind me: how did I ever mistake disappearing for flying?)
-
—Spring Melt (y.c.)