This winter has been a deep freeze. Some parts of me have become glacier-ed off. Distant & drifting. My resolve began melting, only to become piercing icicles of grief & despair. But I am not alone. There is an avalanche of suffering abounding the planet & I can’t help but keep room for them inside of this blizzard.
Smoke curls. I’m enjoying the chill & contemplating. I’m trying to write beyond my feelings. I’m devouring books because for a whole week I struggled to read them.
I did read in a dream, which is a rarity for me. I was trying to ask for help & I realized a screen was a dead thing. The ghosts behind them were there. I could feel them. I will always appreciate every spectre whose mind wanders toward me.
Numbness. The physicality of neuropathy, both pain & absence of touch. Of fire & ice. The mental blankness, the stunned stare. The missing.
Then the glue that keeps me together returns but is broken & bent himself. I care for him. He thanks me. His eyes are still sad.
This may just be the worst winter ever & again, there is connection in that. In blustery winds. In uncertainty. In loss. In fear. In survival.
The charred cauliflower–cystic & deadly, residing inside of me, screaming for my attention–is blurred into the background. Clouded in grey haze. I will care for me too. I will warm myself up eventually.
There is love in brokenness.
There is love in incisions.
There is love in winces.
In me.
Spring showed its face & then quickly cowered in retreat. The hibernation period will continue. The thaw will come. Our muddied remains will feel tender relief. For how long? Time will eventually let us know.
Thistle Thoughts 