Its been a lonely year
snow falls on another bright day
dusts death to the beauty of life.
nothing matters
frosted over
my reflection on sheets of ice
unable to recognize myself
thinking back when you use to make me feel like i use to walk on water
its just been such a lonely year.
if only i could take back the part of me
but now i cant find the words
im stuck
lost and dependent
on tender memories
dont tell me ill be fine
im hard and iced over
just waiting for my next good bye
with whatever left of me

The unexpected snow, disruptive,
in ways more burdensome,
than mere fender benders and
swapping travelogue commutation miseries

ah, the tv reporters regale
with snow tales, human fails,
but where do you hear
of the children
burnt once by fire
then again, now,
again!
burnt by snow.

here, hear, listen here

technology moves forward,
grafting new shells of skin
on burnt children,
but tonite you're cozy thinking
of your valentine's heart,
not of the little ones,
whose hearts are unprotected,
by what we take so for granted

beneath our protective gloves and coats, scarfs and boots,
our prophylactic human skin,
theirs, fire ravaged,
now re-hazardous,
by southern snows burning

these children hurt,
unexpectedly,
cannot play in the snow that came so
unexpectedly,
lest it burn them worse*

"in the children's burn unit, postponed all surgeries except 'emergency'.  Two days of outpatient clinic patients forced to reschedule,. That then, postpones their surgeries, second step grafting, etc. Our vents ran smoothly I heard via the generators, unlike last outage. We had to ambulance each individual patient.

I dread going in tomorrow but small comfort,
it will be warmer than my cold home."

Life first, poetry second

Today if you had asked me
what love still meant to me
I would look at you,
diving in the abyss
of your brown eyes
and look at you look at me.

I'll tell you that I loved you
before the first spark
ever hit your armoured heart
to light an everlasting fire.

That the words which escaped you
cascaded down on me
like a million rivers unfolding
to reveal their anger they kept
hidden long enough
to allow the heat to die down on their own.

That the truth in things
didn't exist in the ways,
in people like we wanted to.

If love was an inferno
to walk through
you know I would.
That with every burning touch of the coal
beneath my feet
would be another step closer to victory,
closer to you.
That this was the painful esctasy of love,
and every ember was like the ones
that burnt in me for you.

And I would tell you
that you were worth it.
You were worth it all.

More often than not
my feelings manifest like the notes
of songs I have ingrained in my skin
and to find the words
that translate the way anger and sorrow and…

I don't even have the words for emotions
I don't understand them
beyond their most basic of means
I don't know how to say I'm so mad I could….
but I know what it sounds like

If asked how I feel
I can feel the motion in Piano Concerto No. 1
that means my skin is tingling
my heart is beating faster then
that drum roll Jukka plays and just as fiery and just as raw

It's never come naturally to me
to discuss how I feel
my instinct is to make someone listen to a song and tell them
that
right there
that note
that tremble in his throat
the way those chords interact
That's what I'm feeling

perhaps one day someone will hear it too