Today I’m feeling all  alone

I feel the chill of winter’s bone
the seeping cold of stony ground
the winding of the wind around
my spine with frost inching up it
and icy fingers on my lip

I think I’ll have to write a poem
to quell the fear
to help me Home
        for in the pen, my therapy
          I write it down, I set it free

I give it voice
I feel its heat
I taste it’s  salt
or bittersweet

I roll it ’round my tongue
and feel
a prickly pear
velvet or steel
a chocolate drop
or lemon peel

I hold it in my arms
to know
does it caress
or deal a blow ?

will it try to
wriggle free
is it fear
or apathy?

And when I’ve got a grip
on it
I let it go
give it the slip

for I have caught it
in my ink
another clue
another link
a tattooed landscape
of my mind
a treasure map
of things to find

things that bind
things unkind
the many crawling things with blind
unseeing eyes opaque
albino skin, the twitch the shake
of that which dwells in darkness deep
in lengthy subterranean sleep

Bring in the light
the sun, the warmth
allow insight
to be the hearth
the fireside to banish dread
open the heart, release the head

And with the end of shadow’s woe
I will find rest in calm repose
for now and only
until when
cold bony hand
and skeleton grin
begin to shake
closet again.


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