poem 14

First Winter

This winter was the coldest
And the hardest.
During the snowfall of circumstances,
The glass-like sharp edges of flakes of words
Brushed past my exposed face
Unused to climate such as this.

The freezing cold winds from north
Cut my eyes like sharp threads of memories.
Got into my chest made it heavy
And did not even come out.
At night the bones
Could hear them talk among themselves.
The fluid of emotions that oiled them
Must have been dried up.

Many things slowed down,
Some even to a halt:
The heart threatened not to beat at times,
Muscles did not even flinch for a smile,
Tears did not flow past the eyes,
Blood got stuck paralysed,
Unguided by any will to do anything.
The winter would have been bearable,
Had you not pulled away from me
And shred to pieces in a few minutes
The blanket of warm sheep skin,
That took us the whole of autumn to weave.