Winter

Grief falling from the sky.

Peaceful but frozen inside.

Dozing forever like a hero

With many stab wounds of betrayal.

A bed, a snowfield, a cot for a 

baby that never comes.

I am, you are, it’s winter.

Grim, cold, unable to love.

Longing, drifting, dead to the world.

An angel for heaven not,

For hell not, for life not

I am, you are, it is winter.

A white mother who birthed cold,

Lying on the edge of cities,

Rejoicing that warmth is coming

To the world. And soon her pain will

Eternally be at an end.

Resting or dying? Too late to know.

I am, you are, it is winter.