Friday, December 21, 2007

Touch of Winter on My Soul

Winter's taught blend of darkness and light, bounty and blight, shadow and bright sunlight teases the senses and chills the blood. When sadness and fear blend to steal away the light, the luminous soul becomes a grey shadow - a dent in the darkness, a hole in the night - the grey gloom under the faint cloudlight. (Cloudlight is the reflected glow of city street lights shining down from low-hanging winter clouds.)

When a lost soul loses touch with the joys of Christmas, friends, family and the bright hope of the future, when the obscene angst of uncertain fears steals away the warmth of the holidays, when the weight of responsibility bears a hopeless heart to the ice covered surface of a midnight highway, winter can touch your soul and silence the joyful song of your life.

Trust me, many who walk in darkness do not fear the light - winter's touch has riven their connection to Christmas - and like skin over-exposed to the cold, the slightest warmth can burn like a thousand suns and turn a tiny twinkle into a rapier of light. Little wonder the grey shadows seek the velvet comfort of the indigo night...


Touch of Winter on My Soul

Tree islands stand where the frozen tides flow,
Dried summer grasses dance winter's wind dance.
Field mouse adrift on a sea of white snow,
Sprints to the beat of my heart's secret glance.
Dent in the darkness, a hole in the gloom -
Silent, I side-step and move beyond sight.
Touched by winter and as cold as the tomb,
My soul drifts unseen under faint cloudlight.

The black spectral arms of maples and oaks,
Grasp the grey shadow of the hopeless heart,
Until the harsh voice of the shadow croaks
In rage, as my memories tear apart.
Bare limbs shaking in a Christmas breeze,
Haunting dark empty streets with no goal -
Take what I need, forget what I please -
I fear the touch of winter on my soul!

The night walker stumbles, wounded by light -
Multi-hued shafts launched by those not unkind,
Bright, glowing, colorful darts pierce the night,
Rending the battle shield guarding my mind.
Though cloudlight shines wanly from midnight skies,
My thoughts are stark, sinister, black as coal -
I know the dark truth that my heart denies:
I bear the touch of winter on my soul.

And the Christmas joy I wanted so much,
Flees from the grey shadow, without a touch...

Mick McKellar
December 2007

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