Facing Winter

As I discharge my heart
into the cold of winter air

infused with the familiar
density of layers

where snow and ice
are nearly family
in a tomb of tundra
beneath my feet

Crystals of arctic memory
are a vaccine to my fear;

a crutch for the asking
while I slowly wander
numbed
and decreasing my steps
in this impossible dance,

come to me
as if a nymph from the frosty fields
and hold my hand through this constant storm.

I am a child dreaming

looking for the way
when the path is covered
by the blizzard.

of missing the sound of your voice
when the only color is a nothingness;

a desert of white
in the center
of my wounded chest.