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.
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.