Winter Prayer

Photo by Valeria Boltneva from Pexels

How easy to forget, in February, that soon the ground will come alive again.

Some things have no memory —

being stiff we cannot recall the softness.

Being chilled, we cannot imagine our way to warmth,

just as being poor, one cannot remember himself to plenty.

What a feat of balance it is to live in the wintertime then,

to hold hope and acceptance together in one frozen palm.

To say, my body aches for sunlight that it cannot extract,

but by god, I am here,

and these brumal wilds, for this time, are my inhabitancy.

To grip the opportunity of the cold,

still longing with love and patience for the thaw.