conversations in winter

god must hate me
she breathed out the thought
giving birth to its truth
and those pinprickling words
with each heavy step
but winter carried her faith
along snow capped paths
masking her way
as she wearied on
through her dead land
curious and certain
something lay further

where is hope?
concern over time
though masking her way
pried open her mind
the blustering winter
molding her glacial form
flurries blistered her cheeks
something died, something torn
between her lines
sleet biting down
to her bones and her faith
bowing gracefully to pain
and though seductive at times
she still refuses the fleeting relief
from the heavy sultry heat

Leave a Reply

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

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

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s