Winter's Comfort

I.
Survive with me in frost and icy months.
To dream a dream beyond the razor cold:
A Greek within a one-eyed winter’s cave.

A slab of winter crystals block the path
That leads outside. Amidst the shivers, clouds
Of breathing skim my hands and arms, but trapped
Within this cave, the sun and warmth inside
My lungs has set beneath horizons made
of ice. Alone, my breath is warmed by phrenic Spring.

In the coldest of winter’s months, I walk the garden inside.

II.
In the warmth of my mind, Persephone kisses
The terrain that imprisons me. Gardens do come
And ejaculate petals upon unprepared,
Unexpected worshipers. The flowers' aroma
have no bounds: in an ambient curl, like sun crests
In the darkest of ice, and intense warmth rises.

I walk the edge the heat creates.
To touch Spring, softly, sears my cheek.

It hurts—it hurts to be beside the bloom.
My Nature engulfs all who approach.

The flowers hold my hand
And burn me, circumferentially.

My skin roses when touched by Spring;

We are not the same.
Spring! You control your blaze, but I,
I can only sit back and pray you come closer,
Become hotter and set me aflame.

III.
Survive the bitter cold with the warmth from within.
As winter solstice passes,
The sun returns and melts away
The slab of ice that blocked my path.

The first experience of spring
In six relentless months of cold.

It is not as it was before.
Does the sun shine?
I see the light, but it lacks the warmth.
I see the grass, the blades do prick
My frost-bitten toes, but green
Outside is an unreal strand compared
To the meadow created inside the frozen cave.

I tear a daisy from the ground.
The stem bleeds a viscous odorless fluid.
The petals crumble in my palm.
The corpse is cold to the touch.
The stem and stamen and white tears
Of nature are as twisted as the legs
Of a dead crab washed upon the abandoned shores.

Persephone, my dear, you lied.
This is not the tryst you promised me.

IV.
The cave can give peace
Away from lifeless forms.
And Spring will come again
In winter’s ice.