Winter, Summer, Winter

I wrote this poem last June, attempting to make sense of the events of last winter. I had been ill and was still in bad shape; in June I was just beginning to come out of it. The visit to this location, Fort Washington state park, was something I did to help me confront and move past things I did not like to think about. It was part of the ongoing process of coming to terms with what had been lost and where I would be going from here.

I think this is a good time for this poem to speak. It’s winter again, and I am able to reflect on the changes in the past year and surprise – realize how I’ve picked up and gone on. I visited this park today, and it was a peaceful, pleasant experience. (You can read about this visit – it was part of my Sunshine Project – here – if you’d like to). I have a lot of hope for the future, and I am grateful.

Well, enough. Read the poem and see what you think. And as always, thank you for doing so.

Exorcism

I came here,
today, this hot sunny day,
to think these thoughts with my still-putting-it-back-together mind
To walk along this path below the railroad tracks
Looking for the pine trees
and they are covered in drifts of honeysuckle
It’s enough to be here
something not possible before now
not since last winter
when
when this path was unreachable
buried under snow
in a picture-perfect winter scene
if you could overlook
the impersonal destructiveness of the ice
the pitiless cold shredding your heavy coat
the greedy look of the sky
full of appetite for ruining something
and no lack of weapons to do it with
The pine trees covered with drifts of snow
Tree after tree brought down
branches cracked, snapped, twisted apart
just like what happened to me.
Now I see dead brown limbs
fractured and hanging
amid the healthy green
Each tree like a person
with a broken arm but no sling
and dangling
Pain with every movement
It hurts.
I hear the church bells in the quiet air
the insects’ voices
an airplane far above me in the blue sky
the sound of cars on the road not too far away
all these sounds hollow, light, irrelevant to me
in the hot bright sun
as I walk along the railroad tracks
the slow-knitting pieces of my mind
The ones I’ve glued back together
and the other ones
scraping together
Pain with every movement
but still I smell the honeysuckle
sweet and strong
lying in drifts
over the pine trees

January, 2015. Run down this hill and you will find yourself...

Run down this hill and you will find yourself…

...this path to follow.

…this path to follow.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Winter, Summer, Winter

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s