Between The Drifts

Between the drifts of blizzards

that come in the wintry fury over the heart

as those snowy sayings that chill the soul,

I built my shelter in my head

of the timbers from wisdom’s wood.

 

And though the day summons its frigid winds

from the many who come as snowmen of icy phrases

meant to cover with criticisms like frostbitten effects,

still I huddle in my isolation

not letting their frozen kiss

deny me the refuge for my peace.

 

Because in the solitude

can I hear that inner voice in reason,

the simple sounds of clarity

like a sun that light in the midst of January habitations

to grant the warm within

against those harsh and brutal seasons.

 

For even when the day only affords

the bite in chill from the air that is breathed,

it doesn’t have to force a retreat

into the hibernation from truth or time,

a surrender to challenges that test

by hiding from the weather.

 

Instead it is a place of discovery

where there is heat from enlightenment,

which is a fire that outlast the seasons

when life grows so intense in its storms.