Sometimes all it takes is a walk in the snow
To find and recover my rapidly beating heart
Warm under a great sheet of ice, aglow
A beacon, An oversentimental itch
an almost slip to knock the wind
Back into these desperate lungs
Under my skin under the snow fall
I am closer than I have ever been
To being something clean
So often my sobriety forgets
I am holy as red stained glass
Like water in a German crystal wine goblet
My spill forth will only bring life
Panic exhales, cold and quiet
The cloud passes, the day
Clear and white. Sometimes
all it takes is a walk in the snow.
About the Creator
Justin Black
I write mostly poetry, and I enjoy accidental and intentional rhyme.
All photographs are my own. Get my poetry book below! 🙌 ⤵️
For The Love of Birds: A Collection Plate of Poetry and Pictures for Adultish Persons
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TUS NUA - ch 49
TUS NUA – ch 49 New Beginnings – Mia and Midnight (*)(*)(*) As Mia spoke on the phone to Ali’s sister, Ellen, Finola slipped quietly away and walked to the stream behind Tus Nua. Carefully, she put a block on her family so no one could know what she was about to do.
By Margaret Brennan3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
The image of panic exhaling “cold and quiet” after that walk in the snow really landed for me — it feels like that moment when your body finally believes you’re safe again, even if your mind is still catching up. And the line about sobriety forgetting you’re “holy as red stained glass” felt tender in a way that surprised me, like reclaiming something fragile but luminous instead of pretending to be spotless. It made me think about how grounding rituals sneak up on us when we’re spiraling. Do you already know the snow will do this for you, or does it still catch you off guard when it works?