I feel the roughed powder of snow still on my skin blowing with the wind as at whips past the building edges. I look beyond these walls of time & still I wonder, will I ever feel summer soaked down into me as I do the winter? Summer, with all its temporary heat & the agony of burnt light & my lips chapped & red, sweating, stinging & caked in madness, it has a ring of winter’s torture juxtaposed & just as merciless. But, I can’t feel it to my bones.
Inside, I hear my heart crack off it’s icy sheath, a little glassy snap, as it breathes & beats. It’s a little blue tinged & the blood, thick & globular shuffling through my chilled inner world, it’s all got a echoey hum, not the buzzing warm whir of summer-sweet.
The night sky that lives inside my dreams is dark with navy & bright with the northern lights skipping about, everything is heavy & light is a sharpness, always coming or going but never fully there.
I have craved summer like a starved dog wasted & shivering, spattered in the roadside muck on the highway, everything speeding beyond, never stopping. I have thought the light & the warmth would soothe me & refresh this deep tiredness that inhabits my core. But as the light lengthens & summer slowly creaks open, the ground greening ever so slightly, the buds pushing beyond the stem to swell, I am still so weak. The muscles of my soul atrophied & aching, just aching, with waste & exhaustion & misery & I lay, soaking up light like water, letting it wash over & heaven help me, to pick up these weary fragments of skin & spirit & not plummet down into the graves of the masses, forgotten & consumed by Time’s gnashing teeth.
…and I sit, very still, & very quiet, & think, this is the full bodied knowledge of halfway through this strange long walk of life or, it is the last agonizing steps of the old life & the new one will be long & sweet & unending.