There's a sharp frosty switchback that never sees the sun in winter skies of blue. The frost heave cut-bank rocks tumble down to the side of the road, in the ice shard mottled ditch lay frozen stiff
Tall Sitka spruce marbled gray shadows mat the sparsely traveled corridor, paved with potholes, where the roads have no names Sometimes listening quietly to the bare stillness, there are rhetorical questions heard in the silent reverie's say:
"Have you ever been afraid?"
The tree-line gaps above the jagged gray stone ravine, disappearing down the rugged mountain shade, falling into the pillow-top fog bank blanketing the canyon's murmurs below — headed towards the ocean
Crystalline spring waters gurgle up roadside — out of nowhere, where tired boots stand in reverent contemplation as it all sings out harmoniously to the trees in the key of silence; it was there in a gust of restless forbearance heard the frozen peacefulness say:
"Have you ever felt alone?"
Gathering a deep breath of marbled gray shadows, silence bears a loud holler's scorn — echoing back and forth down canyon walls, with the spirit of a voice a multitude strong, evanescent as winter's outgoing tide.
January 2019 — Jesse Stillwater
winter thoughts mused by an understanding poet friend's words
The morning fog paints the forest hillside an ashen shade of pale dawn shadows arising — stumbling through the dark, disappearing like some kind of disappointment drifting in the memory of a forgotten dream
a sigh settles in a fragile breath upon the windowpane then drools down upon the sill like gathered dust on an empty picture frame
a sudden gust of loneliness brings a reawakening shiver whispering silently as an old violin without a bow, tuned to a forlorn hidden ache — in the quiet darkness of your memories
The Corrs - Everybody Hurts UNPLUGGED - Amazing version of the R.E.M. Song
Healing leaves are now disrobed branches on the edge of this wilderness. Many tall Douglas Fir stand sentinel over 100 foot tall amazing grace — the fleeting leaves expose the beauty of the moss clad scaffolds adorned with a lime-grey lichen lace Nature is my refuge — solid ground to stand in this harmony and peacefulness.
The river forks at big stone eddy rending currents meandering course, its silence speaks not with forked tongue as kismet's swirling eddies abide as if time immemorial; a river naturally cleaved in two separate distinct directions befallen destiny without a choice
Spinning round and round in big stone eddy, time just drifting by in the throes of doubt — high water rising beyond the bounds of earth taking drowning souls up to the sky
Choking on a mouthful of unanswered questions, suffocating on the parting words left unsaid; distilling life into poetry hew from being — trickling out like the spilled out sky — taken down to the empty riverbed leave lay' til it's all washed away, in the music of the pourin' down rain
Freedom embodies metaphysical incarnations riding the prevailing currents it can't control Gravity-gathered down to the shoreline, manifest reclamation after the deluge, from somewhere far above the high-water mark
Swallowed by all the darkness woe betides, thinking you carry such a weight to hold... It seems all got a handful of sand to toss up into the wind to seed the clouds The totality of eclipsing silence grows that rent the stillness of a dream of peace on an eroding shoreline
In an Eddy of Expectations & Disappointment dark waters will ebb and flow, imponderable as drowning hope, leaving it all out there to dry after the rain
It's telling looking through the window’s eyes ; a room with a paling grey glass view befogs the clouds reign inside the storm Often feeling misbegotten regret for the unfiltered passing glimpses, whetstone honed and splayed ; raw hues of a latent life exposed
There's an uncertain hidden shame in the unheard truth starving out in the cold; dwelling in a petrifying silence of a common hunger the lonely do ache
Merciless hunger pangs manifest and shake with an unrelenting bitter taste ; loneliness grapples and grips like a silent earth quake rattling a rib caged heart — writhing as Autumn bares the trees
A jagged ambiguous fault line ripples through the hollow echo ; a bolt of lightning caught in a bottle strikes — silently contained swallowing the unspoken words in a greater good
This broken merry-go-round keeps turning round and round; the great mandala spinning on like a worn out hamster-wheel without a conscious trace of going anywhere out there
The place you come from is gone when you leave it — even if you really never feel you were from anywhere but a thousand unmarked mileposts from out here somewhere adrift; a pilgrimage towards understanding why sometimes I don’t know if I know who I am — or could have been — waiting on a threadbare prayer
One-day the winds of change will shapeshift — bye and bye ...
"When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky"
"When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky" from: "Before The Deluge" written by: Jackson Browne