In my sleep, I hear their voices, their tears.
Through the night, their song wavers, yet the same
Deep message, echoes ever down the years.
From my birth, I was aware, not a child.
Second sight, my mother's gift, it knew me.
I can sense, in dark moods and motives wild,
Fear and hate, as they strive to rule coldly.
Winter's voice, screams its vile, gelid malice.
In my dreams, run the darkest dogs of war.
Then my mind, grasping venom-filled chalice,
Seeks a pit, to discard it evermore.
Sensing death, I choose life, my only choice.
I reject fear and hate in Winter's Voice.
Mick McKellar
September 2020
My mother said I was born an old man. She may have been right, as I swear I remember hearing the same messages I hear today, tales of terror and hate and fear and anger. Love is weakness. Empathy is powerlessness. Justice is vengeance. It was evil then and is evil now. Collect it, contain it, and discard it. It is Winter's Voice bringing death.
Mick
