It burns, this fire of ice and snow and wind—
sinks claws into my throat
snakes tendrils up nostrils
and sandpapers my unfinished cheeks.
Perhaps it would be gentler if I loved it—
would caress instead of attack
would embrace instead of harm.
Perhaps acceptance will never change
what nature intended.
But I will make peace with fate
regardless of where it leads—
and this bitter winter will dog my heels
and make mockery of the brightest sun.
About the Creator
Alison McBain
Alison McBain writes fiction & poetry, edits & reviews books, and pens a webcomic called “Toddler Times.” In her free time, she drinks gallons of coffee & pretends to be a pool shark at her local pub. More: http://www.alisonmcbain.com/
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More stories from Alison McBain and writers in Poets and other communities.
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Comments (3)
Great poem, Alison. And fantastic line! Having it tattooed now 😁
Very beautiful
Well-wrought! Is it still wintering up where you are, or is this a reminiscence?