Thursday, October 15, 2015

A Shawl Made of Snow

I am tunneling into the cavernous abyss
Largely built and hyped inside my head,
Falling and groping around the further I travel
Down, my fingers grazing remnants of joy
Mixing among fear and the stagnant air of the past.
It is difficult to breathe.

I search for faces, strain my ears for voices
Belonging to someone I love, for the sight
Of a body I've been craving

Down the rabbit hole I go
Thirsty, hungry, needing answers
and a quick turn towards the shadows
Which have never helped me before,
But still I return and regret.

I keep moving through.
I think I may have reached the inner works
Of the brain stem
When at last I see a glimmer of light,
A tiny flame that is burning.

I see that same flame in his eyes,
The one who sparked the journey
and sent me along wearing a shawl
Made of snow,
But I only felt the warmth and sureness
Of his hands, and ignored the cold.