Six More Weeks of Winter

 I wrote this poem in the winter of 2014. My best friend’s infant son had died the summer before and my cousin’s infant daughter was battling cancer. It didn’t make sense then. It doesn’t make sense now.

Six More Weeks of Winter
An icy, gnarled claw
Grips our valley, homes, our land.
Unprejudiced, be damned,
Be young, be old, have all, have none.
Piercing wind blows through
Windowpanes turned masterpiece
Bitterness and beauty kiss
In one breathtaking gust.
A seasonal haven forsaken,
Becomes a seasonal desert.
Groaning under her winter weight
She speaks to those who hear.
Heads low, eyes down.
Men scurry door to door
Seeking respite from the cold
Seeking hope and seeking home.
So is the winter of the soul
A heart encased in grief.
An unrelenting claw
Comes tearing at my peace.
My breath taken without consent
In awe of life, shocked by death.
Where is my home? Where is my hope?
My respite from the cold?
My groaning will not cease
Until springtime thaws the freeze,
Until hope reveals its face,
And death has lost its sting.

2 thoughts on “Six More Weeks of Winter

  1. Beautiful and heart-aching, Lisa. With you in the grip of that icy claw. Thank you so much for sharing this and all your posts. I appreciate each one, and where they are coming from, and the hope toward which they are pointing. The photos are gorgeous, too. I’d love to see captions–where was the long landscape shot taken? Peace, Tom


    1. Thank you for your kind words, Tom! The landscape shot was taken at Lake Raystown in Huntingdon, PA – my home immediately before moving to Vermont. The poem and photos were created together, so I made sure to keep them together. 🙂


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