The days shorten
As the sun grows distant
And the noises of a frozen earth
Begin their earthen symphony
Rustling
Cracking
Dripping
Howling
And I listen
As I slow
Until year’s dawn

The bird sings to me
As it sings to the tree
The tree, which holds the bird
The bird flys by me
As it flies by the squirrel
The squirrel, which plants
The tree, which holds the bird
The bird eats a worm
As it eats of the seeds
The seeds I have left for it
In hopes that it will sing to me
As it sings to the tree

Shadows threaten
They stand at the gates
They whisper through the windows
They mock and jeer
Must I listen?
Must I submit?
Or must I learn not to hear?

Or is there an in between?

A humming
Scratches at my ears
A sparse harmony
Long forgotten

Without beginning or end
It lingers
On dissonant tones

Yet it promises
In its quiet moments
To bring music
To alter the world

I walk amidst shades
Specters of me
What I was
And the thousand ways
I could have been

Free me from myself
That I might fly high
That I might touch the sky
Unshackled from my own mind

fire
warms me
hurts me
burns me
saves me
fire
chokes from without
drives from within
fire
let it stay at bay
let it take my heart

“Not myself”
What I say when I fail
What I say when I do wrong
What I say when I hurt another
What I say when I transgress

I am
“Not myself” when I fail
“Not myself” when I do wrong
“Not myself” when I hurt another
“Not myself” when I transgress

But
When I fail, I learn
When I do wrong, I own it
When I hurt another, I reconcile
When I transgress, I make whole

For to say I am not myself
Is to say I am more than I
So I shall not say
I am “not myself”

When I mean I am not as good as I wish to be

Whispering
It comes
Rises through the trees
To a roar
Brings a chill
Deep to my bones
Brings a promise
Of ice