Saturday, April 12, 2014

Worry Is The Coldest Season

When it snows, we catch snowflakes in our palms
And smile as they melt. We breathe in cold air,
We breathe out the power to destroy.
When we want to be creative we collect hundreds
Of snowflakes, briefly turn our warm breath away,
And let each distinct sliver of snow meld into one.
We breathe in excitement, we breathe out and let
The snowballs fly. We’re hit, we giggle, the game goes on.
When we’re bored with our cold, flat street, we move
To the mountains, ride with skis to the top, 
And let ourselves fly, momentarily breathless.

Once, you wouldn’t let go.  You crouched at the top
Frozen, because you took a breath in
And forgot to let another one out. What was different
About this snow? What did you think you could control?

When they told you everyone must let go and continue moving,

Did you think that didn’t apply to you? 

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